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Страница 107 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Страница 159 - On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid, Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow, Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ; Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye : O sailor boy ! sailor boy ! peace to thy soul ! 1 surge, deep sea.
Страница 106 - O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the...
Страница 235 - He that questioneth much shall learn much, and content much; but especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh ; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his questions not be troublesome, for that is fit for a poser ; and let him be sure to leave other men their turns to speak.
Страница 107 - Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; — I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Страница 112 - I'd have you remember that when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at the window.
Страница 158 - His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.