Poet's walk, an introduction to English poetry, chosen by M. MorrisMowbray Walter Morris 1882 |
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33 ページ
... toll , And the third hour of drowsy morning name . Proud of their numbers and secure in soul , The confident and over - lusty French Do the low - rated English play at dice ; D And chide the cripple tardy - gaited night Who , BOOK THE ...
... toll , And the third hour of drowsy morning name . Proud of their numbers and secure in soul , The confident and over - lusty French Do the low - rated English play at dice ; D And chide the cripple tardy - gaited night Who , BOOK THE ...
132 ページ
... fall in every foe ! Liberty's in every blow ! - Let us do or die ! R. Burns . ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE . TOLL for 132 POET'S WALK . W Wordsworth R Burns (Bruce to his Troops on the Eve of the Battle of Bannockburn.
... fall in every foe ! Liberty's in every blow ! - Let us do or die ! R. Burns . ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE . TOLL for 132 POET'S WALK . W Wordsworth R Burns (Bruce to his Troops on the Eve of the Battle of Bannockburn.
133 ページ
... Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea - fight is fought ; His work of glory done . It was not in the battle ; No temptest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock : His sword was in its ...
... Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea - fight is fought ; His work of glory done . It was not in the battle ; No temptest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock : His sword was in its ...
155 ページ
... , Weave a circle round him thrice , And close your eyes with holy dread , For he on honey - dew hath fed , And drunk the milk of Paradise . S. T. Coleridge . ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD . THE curfew tolls BOOK THE SECOND . 155.
... , Weave a circle round him thrice , And close your eyes with holy dread , For he on honey - dew hath fed , And drunk the milk of Paradise . S. T. Coleridge . ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD . THE curfew tolls BOOK THE SECOND . 155.
156 ページ
Mowbray Walter Morris. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD . THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day , The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea , The ploughman homeward plods his weary way , And leaves the world to darkness and to ...
Mowbray Walter Morris. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD . THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day , The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea , The ploughman homeward plods his weary way , And leaves the world to darkness and to ...
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多く使われている語句
a-thynkynge Antony Bacchus battle beneath blood bosom brave breast breath bright Brignall Brutus Cæsar cheer Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Citizen clouds County Guy cried crown dance dark dead dear death deep doth dread earth echoes eyes fair fame fear flowers forest glory golden Greece green hand Hark hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill honour hour king Lady Lady Macbeth leaves light live Lochiel Lochinvar look Lord Byron loud lyre Macbeth maidens merry morn mountains Mourn ne'er never night o'er ODIN once praise proud roar rose Rustum S. T. Coleridge Samian wine shore shout Siege of Corinth sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile soft song soul sound spear spirit stars steed stood stream sweet sword tears thee thou thunder Toll slowly tower Twas voice wave weep wild wind woods
人気のある引用
158 ページ - Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes...
175 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 stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
156 ページ - Hare that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those nigged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
76 ページ - A merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw...
217 ページ - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
110 ページ - A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place...
41 ページ - Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man.
192 ページ - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's...
198 ページ - And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the...
310 ページ - Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brush-wood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England — now! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That's...