A Hundred Great PoemsH. Holt, 1907 - 230 páginas |
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Página 44
... happy tone Of meditation , slipping in between The beauty coming and the beauty gone . If thought and Love desert us , from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse ; With Thought and Love companions of our way , Whate'er ...
... happy tone Of meditation , slipping in between The beauty coming and the beauty gone . If thought and Love desert us , from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse ; With Thought and Love companions of our way , Whate'er ...
Página 48
... happy Shepherd - boy ! IV Ye blessed Creatures , I have heard the call Ye to each other make ; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My heart is at your festival , My head hath its coronal , ― The fulness of your bliss , I ...
... happy Shepherd - boy ! IV Ye blessed Creatures , I have heard the call Ye to each other make ; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My heart is at your festival , My head hath its coronal , ― The fulness of your bliss , I ...
Página 57
... happy lovers , The path that leads them to the grove , The leafy grove that covers : And pity sanctifies the verse That paints , by strength of sorrow , The unconquerable strength of love ; Bear witness , rueful Yarrow ! But thou that ...
... happy lovers , The path that leads them to the grove , The leafy grove that covers : And pity sanctifies the verse That paints , by strength of sorrow , The unconquerable strength of love ; Bear witness , rueful Yarrow ! But thou that ...
Página 66
... happy hour , When midway on the mount I lay Beside the ruined tower . The moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the lights of eve ; And she was there , my hope , my joy , My own dear Genevieve ! She leaned against the armèd ...
... happy hour , When midway on the mount I lay Beside the ruined tower . The moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the lights of eve ; And she was there , my hope , my joy , My own dear Genevieve ! She leaned against the armèd ...
Página 88
... are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? XVI With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : 88 Shelley.
... are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? XVI With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : 88 Shelley.
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Termos e frases comuns
Agnolo Andrea della Robbia beauty beneath bird bliss bosom breast breath bright brow Camelot dark dead dear death deep dost doth dream earth Elysian valleys Emily Brontë eyes fair fancy fear feel flow flower golden grass gray green gusset hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hill hope iris changes king of pain kiss La Vernia Lady of Shalott leaves light lips live Locksley Hall long day wanes look love thee love waves love's Lycidas mirror crack'd moon morn mountains muse never night o'er OZYMANDIAS pain pale rest ride river rode rose round sang shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit stars stitch stream sweet tears tell tender thine things thou art thou wilt thought thro tree voice wander wave weary weep wild winds youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 27 - Ay me, I fondly dream, Had ye been there!— for what could that have done? What could the muse herself that Orpheus bore, The muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Página 25 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: Who would not sing for Lycidas?
Página 30 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Página 159 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade...
Página 54 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower...
Página 29 - Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. "Ah, who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?
Página 15 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: 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 7 - 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 3 - 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 41 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi