A Poetry-book of Modern PoetsTauchnitz, 1878 - 334 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 39
Página 29
... look on Marathon- And Marathon looks on the sea ; And musing there an hour alone , I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; For standing on the Persians ' grave , I could not deem myself a slave . A king sat on the rocky brow Which ...
... look on Marathon- And Marathon looks on the sea ; And musing there an hour alone , I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; For standing on the Persians ' grave , I could not deem myself a slave . A king sat on the rocky brow Which ...
Página 35
... looks on Greece with cloudless eye , In the free air , and on the war - field won , Our fathers crown'd the Bowl of Liberty . Amidst the tombs they stood , The tombs of heroes ! with the solemn skies And the wide plain around , where ...
... looks on Greece with cloudless eye , In the free air , and on the war - field won , Our fathers crown'd the Bowl of Liberty . Amidst the tombs they stood , The tombs of heroes ! with the solemn skies And the wide plain around , where ...
Página 39
... look like things too glorious for decay , And smile at thee - but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey . Leaves have their time to fall , And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath , And stars to ...
... look like things too glorious for decay , And smile at thee - but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey . Leaves have their time to fall , And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath , And stars to ...
Página 41
... look - the sky is empty space ; I know not what I trace ; But when I cease to look , my hand is on my heart . O ! what a weight is in these shades ! Ye leaves , That murmur once so dear , when will it cease ? Your sound my heart of rest ...
... look - the sky is empty space ; I know not what I trace ; But when I cease to look , my hand is on my heart . O ! what a weight is in these shades ! Ye leaves , That murmur once so dear , when will it cease ? Your sound my heart of rest ...
Página 49
... look bright , my dear , ' Tis never too late for delight , my dear , And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night , my dear . Now all the world is sleeping , love , But the Sage , his star - watch ...
... look bright , my dear , ' Tis never too late for delight , my dear , And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night , my dear . Now all the world is sleeping , love , But the Sage , his star - watch ...
Contenido
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Otras ediciones - Ver todas
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs and Sonnets, Odes and ... Amelia Blanford Edwards Sin vista previa disponible - 2017 |
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs and Sonnets, Odes and ... Amelia Blanford Edwards Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BATTLE OF IVRY BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird blow boys come home breast breath BRIDGE OF SIGHS bright CLEON clouds cold Cusha D. G. Rossetti daffodil dark dear death deep doth dream earth England's dead eyes fair feet flowers glory golden green hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven ITYLUS kisses leaves light LINCOLNSHIRE lips living Lochinvar look Lord loud Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon morn never night o'er OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone rain river rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine shade shadow sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars stream summer swallow sweet tears Tennyson thee thine things thou art thought tree uppe voice warm waves weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
Pasajes populares
Página 139 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Página 78 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Página 231 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Página 124 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence ; truths that wake, To perish never ; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy...
Página 145 - TO A WATERFOWL. WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Página 142 - 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.
Página 222 - SOLITARY 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; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Página 142 - 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...
Página 124 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised...
Página 64 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.