English Sonnets by Poets of the PastSamuel Waddington G. Bell and Sons, 1888 - 238 страници |
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Страница xix
... Happy is England ! I could be content . • • John Keats 144. To Sleep • John Keats 145. Keats's Last Sonnet 146. Liberty • 147. May , 1840 . 148. November • 149. To a Deaf and Dumb John Keats Hartley Coleridge Hartley Coleridge • Little ...
... Happy is England ! I could be content . • • John Keats 144. To Sleep • John Keats 145. Keats's Last Sonnet 146. Liberty • 147. May , 1840 . 148. November • 149. To a Deaf and Dumb John Keats Hartley Coleridge Hartley Coleridge • Little ...
Страница 33
... happy days with thee come not again ! The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee turn , which turn my sweets to sours : Thou art the same which still thou wast before , Delicious , lusty , amiable , fair ; But she , whose breath ...
... happy days with thee come not again ! The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee turn , which turn my sweets to sours : Thou art the same which still thou wast before , Delicious , lusty , amiable , fair ; But she , whose breath ...
Страница 36
... happy place the print seems yet to bear ; Her voice did sweeten here thy sugared lines , To which winds , trees , beasts , birds , did lend an ear ; Me here she first perceived , and here a morn Of bright carnations did o'erspread her ...
... happy place the print seems yet to bear ; Her voice did sweeten here thy sugared lines , To which winds , trees , beasts , birds , did lend an ear ; Me here she first perceived , and here a morn Of bright carnations did o'erspread her ...
Страница 77
... happy ; bees that soar for bloom , ́High as the highest peak of Furness - fells , Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth , the prison unto which we doom Ourselves , no prison is : and hence for me , In sundry moods ...
... happy ; bees that soar for bloom , ́High as the highest peak of Furness - fells , Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth , the prison unto which we doom Ourselves , no prison is : and hence for me , In sundry moods ...
Страница 98
... happy Greece ! while thy blest sons were rovers Through all the loveliness this earth discovers , They in their minds a brighter region founded , Haunted by gods and sylvans , nymphs and lovers , Where forms of grace through sunny ...
... happy Greece ! while thy blest sons were rovers Through all the loveliness this earth discovers , They in their minds a brighter region founded , Haunted by gods and sylvans , nymphs and lovers , Where forms of grace through sunny ...
Други издания - Преглед на всички
Често срещани думи и фрази
beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON bird bowers breath bright brow CHARLES Strong CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER cheer clouds composition dark dear death deep delight didst doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ENGLISH SONNETS eternal eyes fade fair favour fear flowers gentle gleam gloom glorious glory golden grace green grief happy HARTLEY Coleridge hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly honour hope JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON life's light lonely look Lord love thee Love's mighty mind morn mourn murmur Muse never night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poems poet praise round SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirits Spring star streams summer sweet tears thine things THOMAS THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tomb unto verse voice waves weep wild WILLIAM DRUMMOND WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing youth
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Страница 187 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Страница 16 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
Страница 17 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses...
Страница 83 - Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies ; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish ; — be it so ! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour ; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Страница 24 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Страница 40 - I write of youth, of love, and have access By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness ; I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece, Of balm, of oil, of spice, and amber-greece ; I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I write How roses first came red, and lilies white.
Страница 121 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Страница 12 - Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Страница 18 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,— As, to behold Desert a beggar born, And needy Nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest Faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded Honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden Virtue rudely strumpeted, And right Perfection wrongfully disgraced, And Strength by limping sway disabled, And Art made tongue-tied by Authority...
Страница 49 - LAWRENCE ! of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining ? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.