A Poetry Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics, Selected and Arranged, with Notes, from the Works of the Modern English and American Poets, Dating from the Middle of the Eighteenth Century to the Present TimeB. Tauchnitz, 1878 - 334 ページ |
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... warm blood the wolf shall lap Ere life be parted : Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever ; Blessing shall hallow it Never , O never ! Eleu loro Never , O never ! Sir Walter Scott . 8 LIGHT O ' LOVE . LIGHT O ' LOVE ELEU LORO . 7.
... warm blood the wolf shall lap Ere life be parted : Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever ; Blessing shall hallow it Never , O never ! Eleu loro Never , O never ! Sir Walter Scott . 8 LIGHT O ' LOVE . LIGHT O ' LOVE ELEU LORO . 7.
43 ページ
... warm , the sky is clear , The waves are dancing fast and bright ; Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might ; The breath of the moist earth is light Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one ...
... warm , the sky is clear , The waves are dancing fast and bright ; Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might ; The breath of the moist earth is light Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one ...
44 ページ
... warm air My cheek grow cold , and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony . Some might lament that I were cold , As I when this sweet day is gone , Which my lost heart , too soon grown old , Insults with this untimely ...
... warm air My cheek grow cold , and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony . Some might lament that I were cold , As I when this sweet day is gone , Which my lost heart , too soon grown old , Insults with this untimely ...
51 ページ
... with thy soul ? Red grows the cheek , and warm the hand , . . the part is in the whole ! Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate , when soul is joined to soul . E. B. Browning . 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN 4+ INCLUSIONS . 15.
... with thy soul ? Red grows the cheek , and warm the hand , . . the part is in the whole ! Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate , when soul is joined to soul . E. B. Browning . 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN 4+ INCLUSIONS . 15.
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... warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells . Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store ! Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor , Thy hair soft - lifted by the ...
... warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells . Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store ! Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor , Thy hair soft - lifted by the ...
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A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird blow boys come home breast breath bright CLEON clouds cowslips Cusha D. G. Rossetti daffodil dance dark dear death deep doth dream earth England's dead eyes fair flowers glory golden green hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Itylus kisses leaves light lips living Lochinvar look Lord Lord Byron loud maiden Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon morn never night o'er OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone poem rain river rolling rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine shade shadow sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars stream summer sweet tears Tennyson Terpander thee thine things thou art thought tree uppe Verse voice waves weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
人気のある引用
76 ページ - 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...
140 ページ - 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.
143 ページ - 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.
227 ページ - 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...
218 ページ - THE 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.
62 ページ - 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.
140 ページ - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
148 ページ - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, •An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
256 ページ - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!
66 ページ - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.