The Pageant of English PoetryH. Frowde, 1909 - 606 страници |
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Страница 2
... land The work of an Almighty hand . Soon as the evening shades prevail , The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; And nightly to the listening earth , Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn , And all the ...
... land The work of an Almighty hand . Soon as the evening shades prevail , The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; And nightly to the listening earth , Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn , And all the ...
Страница 17
... land I thought , but still her chile's at hand , An ' in her chile she'll zend me on Her love , though she herself's a - gone . O little chile so near to me , An ' like thy mother gone ; why need I zay , Sweet moon , the messenger vrom ...
... land I thought , but still her chile's at hand , An ' in her chile she'll zend me on Her love , though she herself's a - gone . O little chile so near to me , An ' like thy mother gone ; why need I zay , Sweet moon , the messenger vrom ...
Страница 24
... land . W. BLAKE ( Milton ) . 50. A TEAR IS AN INTELLECTUAL THING BUT vain the sword and vain the bow , They never can work War's overthrow . The hermit's prayer and the widow's tear Alone can free the world from fear . For a tear is an ...
... land . W. BLAKE ( Milton ) . 50. A TEAR IS AN INTELLECTUAL THING BUT vain the sword and vain the bow , They never can work War's overthrow . The hermit's prayer and the widow's tear Alone can free the world from fear . For a tear is an ...
Страница 26
... land that mourns for thee . O deck her forth with thy fair fingers ; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom ; and put Thy golden crown upon her languished head , Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee . W. BLAKE . 57. ' SONGS OF ...
... land that mourns for thee . O deck her forth with thy fair fingers ; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom ; and put Thy golden crown upon her languished head , Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee . W. BLAKE . 57. ' SONGS OF ...
Страница 40
... lands With man's ideal sense . Pierce to the centre , Art's fiery finger ! -and break up ere long The serfdom of this world ! appeal , fair stone , From God's pure heights of beauty against man's wrong ! Catch up in thy divine face ...
... lands With man's ideal sense . Pierce to the centre , Art's fiery finger ! -and break up ere long The serfdom of this world ! appeal , fair stone , From God's pure heights of beauty against man's wrong ! Catch up in thy divine face ...
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A. H. CLOUGH angels auld lang syne beauty bel ami beneath birds blow breast breath bright cheek child clouds crown dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes face fair fear flowers frae friends glorious glory gone grace grave green hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven honour hour King kiss lady Lady of Shalott land leaves light lips live look LORD LORD BYRON LORD TENNYSON love thee maid mind morn ne'er never night o'er praise rest rose round SHAKESPEARE shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring star sweet T. L. PEACOCK tears tell thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat tree Twas unto voice W. M. THACKERAY waves weep wild wind youth
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Страница 276 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Страница 242 - Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn ! The very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu ! The fancy cannot cheat so well As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! Adieu ! Thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music. . . . Do I wake or sleep?
Страница 399 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden demi-paradise ; This fortress, built by nature for herself, Against infection, and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Страница 415 - And moan the expense of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Страница 416 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden, In the light of thought, Singing...
Страница 246 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Страница 503 - For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...
Страница 317 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Страница 205 - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate...
Страница 66 - And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might...