The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes by C. Gibbon, Томове 1–21873 |
Между кориците на книгата
Резултати 1 - 5 от 80.
Страница 9
... told you how much in love I before my memory , quiet and still , saying in its innocent love and childish beauty , Stop to think of me turn to look upon the Little Blossom , as it flutters to the ground ! such a silly couple , shall we ...
... told you how much in love I before my memory , quiet and still , saying in its innocent love and childish beauty , Stop to think of me turn to look upon the Little Blossom , as it flutters to the ground ! such a silly couple , shall we ...
Страница 10
... told me so ; they have told me nothing new to my thoughts ; but I am far from sure that I have taken that truth to heart . I cannot master it . I have withdrawn by myself many times to - day to weep . I have remembered Who wept for a ...
... told me so ; they have told me nothing new to my thoughts ; but I am far from sure that I have taken that truth to heart . I cannot master it . I have withdrawn by myself many times to - day to weep . I have remembered Who wept for a ...
Страница 12
... told me that when he began a novel he rarely knew how many people were to figure in it , and , to use his own words , he was always very shaky about their moral conduct . He said that sometimes , especially if he had been dining late ...
... told me that when he began a novel he rarely knew how many people were to figure in it , and , to use his own words , he was always very shaky about their moral conduct . He said that sometimes , especially if he had been dining late ...
Страница 14
... told him of their great size . We had taken care that the largest specimens to be procured should startle his unwonted vision when he came to the table , although , I blush at the remembrance of it now , we apologized in our wicked ...
... told him of their great size . We had taken care that the largest specimens to be procured should startle his unwonted vision when he came to the table , although , I blush at the remembrance of it now , we apologized in our wicked ...
Страница 15
... told me he was nearly forty years old tering about the lanes without the slightest before he was recognized in literature as belong - show of greatness , having a crack with the ing to a class of writers at all above the ordi- nary ...
... told me he was nearly forty years old tering about the lanes without the slightest before he was recognized in literature as belong - show of greatness , having a crack with the ing to a class of writers at all above the ordi- nary ...
Съдържание
316 | |
323 | |
351 | |
371 | |
387 | |
24 | |
27 | |
89 | |
96 | |
105 | |
114 | |
120 | |
129 | |
154 | |
160 | |
165 | |
174 | |
180 | |
184 | |
212 | |
258 | |
267 | |
273 | |
278 | |
287 | |
291 | |
298 | |
306 | |
37 | |
48 | |
53 | |
59 | |
61 | |
69 | |
83 | |
92 | |
160 | |
165 | |
170 | |
184 | |
195 | |
199 | |
205 | |
211 | |
237 | |
272 | |
290 | |
299 | |
Други издания - Преглед на всички
Често срещани думи и фрази
Amel Andrew Waddell appeared arms Athenæum Club beautiful birds called Cardo CASQUET child Cleora cried dark dear death delight door Dora dream earth eyes face father fear feel fire Flashman followed Frederick Hume gave George Withers girl give hand happy head hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour Hume husband Ivanhoe JACQUES JASMIN John Brown knew lady leave Leosthenes light living London look Lord Byron Masaniello mind morning mother nature Nettie never night o'er once passed poet poor replied Richard Sale Rip Van Winkle Romelli round seemed silent sleep smile soon soul spirit stood Surbiton sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Timoleon tion told took turned voice wife wild woman wonder words young youth
Популярни откъси
Страница 49 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Страница 83 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Страница 49 - Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Страница 364 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved — sleep.
Страница 6 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
Страница 49 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Страница 23 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Страница 49 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Страница 269 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight — Where are those dreamers now ? One, 'midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream is laid — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
Страница 73 - Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity.