The Book of Rubies: A Collection of the Most Notable Love-poems in the English LanguageScribner, 1866 - 384 sider |
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Side 151
... willow - tree . Black his hair as the winter night , White his skin as the driven snow , Ruddy his face as the morning light , Cold he lies in the grave below ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree ...
... willow - tree . Black his hair as the winter night , White his skin as the driven snow , Ruddy his face as the morning light , Cold he lies in the grave below ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree ...
Side 152
... willow - tree ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree . Hark ! the raven flaps his wing In the briered dell below ; Hark ! the death - owl loud doth sing To the night - mares as they go ; My love is ...
... willow - tree ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree . Hark ! the raven flaps his wing In the briered dell below ; Hark ! the death - owl loud doth sing To the night - mares as they go ; My love is ...
Side 153
... willow - tree . With my hands I'll dent the briers , Round his holy corse to gre ; Elves and fairies , light your fires , Here my body still shall be ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree . Come with ...
... willow - tree . With my hands I'll dent the briers , Round his holy corse to gre ; Elves and fairies , light your fires , Here my body still shall be ; My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow - tree . Come with ...
Side 168
... willow - tree . My love has wealth and beauty , — The rich attend her door ; My love has wealth and beauty , — And I , alas ! am poor ; The ribbon fair , that bound her hair , Is all that's left to me , While here I lie , in misery ...
... willow - tree . My love has wealth and beauty , — The rich attend her door ; My love has wealth and beauty , — And I , alas ! am poor ; The ribbon fair , that bound her hair , Is all that's left to me , While here I lie , in misery ...
Side 169
... willow - tree . лсе Samuel Taylor Coleridge . [ BORN 1772. DIED 1834. ] 15 THOMAS DIBDIN . 169 I once had gold and silver,- ...
... willow - tree . лсе Samuel Taylor Coleridge . [ BORN 1772. DIED 1834. ] 15 THOMAS DIBDIN . 169 I once had gold and silver,- ...
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The Book of Rubies: A Collection of the Most Notable Love-Poems in the ... Thomas Dunn English Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2017 |
The Book of Rubies: A Collection of the Most Notable Love-Poems in the ... Thomas Dunn English Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2018 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
beauty birds blossom blush bonnie BORN bosom braes breast breath bright brow BRYAN WALLER PROCTOR charms cheek Christ Church College cloud College dear death DIED disdain doth dream Earl educated EDWARD LYTTON EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON fair fairest fate flame flowers Forget gentle Giles Fletcher gone green hath hear heart heaven hope John JOHN LYLYE kiss lady leaves light lips look love thee love's lover maid Mary morning ne'er never Nicholas Breton night o'er Oxford passion plays poems Ramoth RICHARD BARNEFIELD ROBERT AYTOUN rose shade shine sigh sing skies sleep smile soft SONG sorrow soul spirit stars SUSANNA BLAMIRE sweet tears tell thee-I thought thine eyes THOMAS thou art thought of thee thy love Twas University of Edinburgh unto voice vows waly waves weary WILLIAM willow-tree wilt thou wind Yarrow young young Jessie
Populære passager
Side 162 - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Side 99 - Going to the Wars TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True; a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Side 83 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Side 36 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Side 43 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...
Side 158 - I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air : There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw...
Side 76 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Side 155 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Side 65 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Side 53 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.