The Golden Pomp: A Procession of English Lyrics from Surrey to ShirleyArthur Quiller-Couch Methuen, 1895 - 382 páginas |
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Página 45
... look'd gay and full of cheer To welcome the new - liveried year . Sir H. Wotton . 45 LIV THE HAPPY COUNTRYMAN Who WHO can live in heart so glad As the merry country lad ? upon a fair green balk May at pleasure sit and walk , And amid ...
... look'd gay and full of cheer To welcome the new - liveried year . Sir H. Wotton . 45 LIV THE HAPPY COUNTRYMAN Who WHO can live in heart so glad As the merry country lad ? upon a fair green balk May at pleasure sit and walk , And amid ...
Página 49
... looks , Clear as the crystal brooks , Or the pure azured heaven , that smiles to see The rich attendance of our poverty ! Peace , and a secure mind , Which all men seek , we only find . Abused mortals ! did you know Where joy , heart's ...
... looks , Clear as the crystal brooks , Or the pure azured heaven , that smiles to see The rich attendance of our poverty ! Peace , and a secure mind , Which all men seek , we only find . Abused mortals ! did you know Where joy , heart's ...
Página 50
... look Upon the bait , but never on the hook : Nor envy , unless among The birds , for prize of their sweet song . Go , let the diving negro seek For gems hid in some forlorn creek ; We all pearls scorn Save what the dewy morn Congeals ...
... look Upon the bait , but never on the hook : Nor envy , unless among The birds , for prize of their sweet song . Go , let the diving negro seek For gems hid in some forlorn creek ; We all pearls scorn Save what the dewy morn Congeals ...
Página 54
... enjoy a spring for ever . He that to the voice is near Breaking from your iv'ry pale , Need not walk abroad to hear The delightful nightingale . Welcome , welcome . DAMELUS ' SONG OF HIS DIAPHENIA 55 He that looks 54 THE GOLDEN POMP.
... enjoy a spring for ever . He that to the voice is near Breaking from your iv'ry pale , Need not walk abroad to hear The delightful nightingale . Welcome , welcome . DAMELUS ' SONG OF HIS DIAPHENIA 55 He that looks 54 THE GOLDEN POMP.
Página 55
... looks still on your eyes , Though the winter have begun To benumb our arteries , Shall not want the summer's sun . Welcome , welcome . He that still may see your cheeks , Where all rareness still reposes , Is a fool if e'er he seeks ...
... looks still on your eyes , Though the winter have begun To benumb our arteries , Shall not want the summer's sun . Welcome , welcome . He that still may see your cheeks , Where all rareness still reposes , Is a fool if e'er he seeks ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Anon ANTHONY HOPE Author babe Baring Gould beauty behold birds Book of Airs bright Buckram Campion Corydon Crown 8vo cuckoo dear death delight dost doth E. F. BENSON earth England's Helicon English eyes fair fairy-queen fear flowers GILBERT PARKER Gordon Browne grace green Greensleeves grief H. C. BEECHING hath heart heaven Heigh Herrick honour Illustrated JOHN KEBLE Jonson king kiss Lady leave light lips live look Lord Love's lovers lullaby Madrigals maid merry MESSRS METHUEN'S LIST mind morn never night nonny pity pleasure poem praise pretty Prisoner of Zenda Queen rose Shakespeare shepherd sighs sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spring stanzas story swain tears Tereu thee thine things thou art thou hast thought true love unto verse volume W. E. HENLEY W. G. COLLINGWOOD waly wanton weep wind winter youth
Pasajes populares
Página 116 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Página 22 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds, of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight ; The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he :Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
Página 199 - How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer's time; The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widow'd wombs after their lords...
Página 275 - A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Página 142 - 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...
Página 245 - And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white, When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow ; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Página 41 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, — In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love.
Página 245 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Página 105 - As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made...
Página 172 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...