Complete Poetical Works

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H. Milford; Oxford University Press, 1920 - 773 страници
 

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Страница 528 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Страница 621 - Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet ! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal...
Страница 344 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While...
Страница 646 - The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river; Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery Swift to be hurled— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world...
Страница 621 - Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! 'Oh, Men, with Sisters dear! Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out But human creatures
Страница 68 - BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms! Now as they bore him off the field, Said he, 'Let others shoot, For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot!
Страница 175 - Ines" had always, for me, an inexpressible charm: O saw ye not fair Ines! She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek.
Страница 736 - SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
Страница 621 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Страница 621 - Work — work — work, In the dull December light, And work — work — work, When the weather is warm and bright — While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the spring.

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