A Hundred Great PoemsH. Holt, 1907 - 230 páginas |
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Página 24
... leaves of thy unvalued † book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took , Then thou , our fancy of itself bereaving , Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie , That kings for such a ...
... leaves of thy unvalued † book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took , Then thou , our fancy of itself bereaving , Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie , That kings for such a ...
Página 25
... leaves before the mellowing year . Bitter complaint 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 ...
... leaves before the mellowing year . Bitter complaint 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 26
... mourn : The willows , and the hazel copses green , Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays . As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze 26 Milton.
... mourn : The willows , and the hazel copses green , Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays . As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze 26 Milton.
Página 33
... leaves the world to darkness and to me . Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight , And all the air a solemn stillness holds , Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight , And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save ...
... leaves the world to darkness and to me . Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight , And all the air a solemn stillness holds , Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight , And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save ...
Página 68
... leaves A dying man he lay ; His dying words but when I reached That tenderest strain of all the ditty , My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity ! - All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless 68 ...
... leaves A dying man he lay ; His dying words but when I reached That tenderest strain of all the ditty , My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity ! - All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless 68 ...
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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