Poems, Том 1Ticknor and Fields, 1862 |
Между кориците на книгата
Резултати 1 - 5 от 41.
Страница 25
... play , And gladden these deep solitudes . Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour ...
... play , And gladden these deep solitudes . Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour ...
Страница 37
... the clear eye and blushing cheek , The hues that play O'er rosy lip and brow of snow , When hoary age approaches slow , Ah , where are they ? The cunning skill , the curious arts , The glorious COPLAS DE MANRIQUE . 37.
... the clear eye and blushing cheek , The hues that play O'er rosy lip and brow of snow , When hoary age approaches slow , Ah , where are they ? The cunning skill , the curious arts , The glorious COPLAS DE MANRIQUE . 37.
Страница 66
... play ; And every thing , that can sing and fly , Goes with us , and far away . " I greet thee , bonny boat ! Whither , or whence , With thy fluttering golden band ? " -- 66 I greet thee , little bird ! To the wide sea I haste from the ...
... play ; And every thing , that can sing and fly , Goes with us , and far away . " I greet thee , bonny boat ! Whither , or whence , With thy fluttering golden band ? " -- 66 I greet thee , little bird ! To the wide sea I haste from the ...
Страница 71
... play of spears , Fell all the cavaliers , Before the monarch's stalwart son . To the barrier of the fight Rode at last a sable Knight . " Sir Knight ! your name and scutcheon , say ! " " Should I speak it here , Ye would stand THE BLACK ...
... play of spears , Fell all the cavaliers , Before the monarch's stalwart son . To the barrier of the fight Rode at last a sable Knight . " Sir Knight ! your name and scutcheon , say ! " " Should I speak it here , Ye would stand THE BLACK ...
Страница 83
... playing in the waters of the blue sea . Then a soft crimson glow tinges the heavens . There is a blush on the cheek of night . The colors come and go ; and change from crimson to gold , from gold to crimson . The snow is stained with ...
... playing in the waters of the blue sea . Then a soft crimson glow tinges the heavens . There is a blush on the cheek of night . The colors come and go ; and change from crimson to gold , from gold to crimson . The snow is stained with ...
Други издания - Преглед на всички
Често срещани думи и фрази
angel art thou Balt Bart beautiful behold belfry BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath birds breast breath bride bright brooklet Bruges Carlos Chis clouds Count of Lara Cruz Cruzado dance dark dead Death Don Carlos Don Dinero Dost thou doth dreams earth eyes fair father fear fire flowers Gascon Gipsy gleam gold golden grave Guy de Dampierre hand hear heard heart heaven holy Humphrey Gilbert HYPOLITO JULIUS MOSEN land light lips look loud maiden midnight Minnesingers morning night Nils Juel o'er Padre pass poem poet Pray prayer Preciosa rain ring rise round sail Saint Sandalphon sang SCENE shadows shalt ship silent singing sleep smile soft song soul sound stands stars stood sweet tears Tharaw thee thine thou art thou hast thoughts Timoneda unto Vict Victor Galbraith Victorian village voice walls wave weary wild wind youth
Популярни откъси
Страница 360 - But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, Standing on what too long we bore We may discern — unseen before — A path to higher destinies. With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly
Страница 11 - us Footprints on the sands of time; Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Footprints, that perhaps another, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing Learn to labor and to wait. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. THERE
Страница 10 - returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, Still, like
Страница 96 - hither I come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow." Against the stinging blast; He cut a rope from a broken spar, He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat And bound her to the mast. O
Страница 93 - Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to lee-ward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, Stands looking sea-ward. " There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her
Страница 9 - Stoop o'er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I felt her presence, by its spell of might, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes. My spirit drank repose
Страница 10 - PSALMIST. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream !" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest
Страница 97 - Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, Ho ! ho! the breakers roared! Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The
Страница 321 - vapors Amid these earthly damps. What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead,—the child of our affection,—
Страница 25 - A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle, And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud From cottage roofs the warbling blue-bird sings, And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke, Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail. 0 what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under