Favourite English poems and poets1870 - 672 sider |
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Side 14
... sound went with the river as it ran , Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale ; O Merle quoth she , O fool ! stint of thy tale , For in thy song good sentence is there none , For both is tint , the time and the travail Of every ...
... sound went with the river as it ran , Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale ; O Merle quoth she , O fool ! stint of thy tale , For in thy song good sentence is there none , For both is tint , the time and the travail Of every ...
Side 18
... sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange , And speak such words as touch my change , Blame not my Lute ! My Lute , alas ! doth not ...
... sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange , And speak such words as touch my change , Blame not my Lute ! My Lute , alas ! doth not ...
Side 19
... sound that same ; But if till then my fingers play , By thy desert their wonted way , Blame not my Lute ! Farewell ! unknown ; for though thou break My strings in spite with great disdain , Yet have I found out for thy sake , Strings ...
... sound that same ; But if till then my fingers play , By thy desert their wonted way , Blame not my Lute ! Farewell ! unknown ; for though thou break My strings in spite with great disdain , Yet have I found out for thy sake , Strings ...
Side 23
... sound of plaint . Thus I alone , where all my freedom grew , In prison pine with bondage and restraint , And with remembrance of the greater grief To banish the less , I find my chief relief . APALIBERIS HE soote season , that bud and ...
... sound of plaint . Thus I alone , where all my freedom grew , In prison pine with bondage and restraint , And with remembrance of the greater grief To banish the less , I find my chief relief . APALIBERIS HE soote season , that bud and ...
Side 37
... sound : Led with delight , they thus beguile the way , Until the blustering storm is overblown , When weening to return , whence they did stray , They cannot find that path which first was shown , But wander to and fro in ways unknown ...
... sound : Led with delight , they thus beguile the way , Until the blustering storm is overblown , When weening to return , whence they did stray , They cannot find that path which first was shown , But wander to and fro in ways unknown ...
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a-thynkynge beauty beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER blow born breast breath bright CHRISTOPHER MARLOW clouds CRESWICK dead dear death delight died doth dream E. H. WEHNERT E. M. WIMPERIS earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fame favourite fear flowers gentle GEORGE THOMAS glory grace grave green grief groves GUSTAVE Doré happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour Hudibras Inchcape Rock JOHN GILBERT JOSHUA SYLVESTER King lady light live Lochaber look Lord Lute Lycidas merry mind morn mother ne'er never night Nightingale o'er Palie Piers Ploughman pleasure poem poet poetry praise pray Queen rise rose round sche seem'd shade shepherd sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound swain tears tell thee thine thou art thought Twas voice waves weary Westminster Abbey wild wind youth
Populære passager
Side 318 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Side 307 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Side 304 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Side 582 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The Vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." " And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so,
Side 70 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Side 419 - 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...
Side 301 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Side 299 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Side 494 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun, Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ? Is DEATH that woman's mate ? Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold : Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice ; " The game is done ! I've won ! I've won ! " Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
Side 552 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by ;...