A Household Book of English Poetry, Oplag 160Macmillan, 1870 - 438 sider |
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Side 4
... springtime sown , Die in the ground ere they be grown ; Such is conceit , whose rooting fails , As child that in the cradle quails ; Or else within the mother's womb Hath his beginning , and his tomb . 5 10 Affection follows Fortune's ...
... springtime sown , Die in the ground ere they be grown ; Such is conceit , whose rooting fails , As child that in the cradle quails ; Or else within the mother's womb Hath his beginning , and his tomb . 5 10 Affection follows Fortune's ...
Side 5
... springs ; And love is love , in beggars as in kings . Where rivers smoothest run , deep are the fords ; The dial stirs , yet none perceives it move ; The firmest faith is in the fewest words ; The turtles cannot sing , and yet they love ...
... springs ; And love is love , in beggars as in kings . Where rivers smoothest run , deep are the fords ; The dial stirs , yet none perceives it move ; The firmest faith is in the fewest words ; The turtles cannot sing , and yet they love ...
Side 24
... spring , but sorrow's fall . 5 ΙΟ Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy bed of roses , Thy cap , thy kirtle , and thy posies , Soon break , soon wither , soon forgotten ; In folly ripe , in reason rotten . 15 Thy belt of straw and ivy - buds ...
... spring , but sorrow's fall . 5 ΙΟ Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy bed of roses , Thy cap , thy kirtle , and thy posies , Soon break , soon wither , soon forgotten ; In folly ripe , in reason rotten . 15 Thy belt of straw and ivy - buds ...
Side 26
... springs renewed by flowing , Ever perfect , ever in them- Selves eternal . 5 10 15 Thomas Campion . XXIV TRIUMPH OF CHARIS . See the chariot at hand here of Love , Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove , And well ...
... springs renewed by flowing , Ever perfect , ever in them- Selves eternal . 5 10 15 Thomas Campion . XXIV TRIUMPH OF CHARIS . See the chariot at hand here of Love , Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove , And well ...
Side 27
... of Ver , Merry , spring - time's harbinger , With her bells dim ; Oxlips in their cradles growing , Marigolds on death - beds blowing , Lark - heels trim ; IO All , dear Nature's children sweet , Lie ' fore of English Poetry . 27.
... of Ver , Merry , spring - time's harbinger , With her bells dim ; Oxlips in their cradles growing , Marigolds on death - beds blowing , Lark - heels trim ; IO All , dear Nature's children sweet , Lie ' fore of English Poetry . 27.
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Alfred Tennyson Ambrose Philips Anon beauty Ben Jonson beneath bird bonnie breath bright busk canst clouds crown dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream e'er earth English English Poetry eyes fair fame fancy fear flowers glory golden grace grave gray green grief hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven Henry Vaughan honour hope hour John Milton King light lines live look Lord Lycidas mind morn mourn Muse ne'er never night numbers o'er pale peace Percy Bysshe Shelley poem poet poetry praise pride rose Samuel Taylor Coleridge shade shine sigh sight sing sleep smile song SONNET sorrow soul spirit spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought trees verse voice weep wild William Blake William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind woods Yarrow youth ΙΟ
Populære passager
Side 248 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Side 282 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Side 85 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Side 257 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Side 285 - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Side 215 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Side 339 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Side 26 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Side 51 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Side 293 - O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed ; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shall remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, ! " Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.