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Alfred Tennyson amid autumn ayen beams beauty beneath birds bloom blossoms bonnie boy boughs bowers breast breath bright buds charms cheerful clouds cuckoo dance dark deep delight derry dost doth earth fair Fairlop field flocks flowers forest fresh gale garden gentle Giles Fletcher golden grass green Grongar Hill grove happy hast hath hear heart heaven hill hour hues Itylus Katydid leaf leaves light live look meadows mede merry morning mountain murmuring Nature never night nightingale nymph o'er plain pleasure poet purple rich rill rock rose round shade shine shower sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spide spring storm stream summer sweet tempests thee thine things Thou art thought thrushes Translation tree unto vale voice wandering wave wild William Gilpin William Wordsworth wind wings winter woods youth
Страница 96 - 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, Clustered 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 404 - Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Страница 174 - GOD ALMIGHTY first planted a Garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings and palaces are but gross...
Страница 209 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!
Страница 96 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Страница 167 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Страница 168 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; 0 listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Страница 194 - This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.