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ブックス Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the... の書籍検索結果
" Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. "
Books and Habits, from the Lectures of Lafcadio Hearn, Selected and Edited ... - 19 ページ
Lafcadio Hearn 著 - 1921 - 328 ページ
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The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 ページ
...Time, and turned it in his glowing hands: Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...with might: Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. As the husband is, the wife is : thou art mated with a clown, And the...

The New Monthly Belle Assemblée, 第 30 巻

1849 - 468 ページ
...loved." Passion seeks the gratification of self; Love sacrifices itself. What says Tennyson ? — ' Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the...with might ; Smote the chord of self, that trembling passed in music out of sight.' " " Cite proofs, and not the fictions of poetry, if you wish to convert...

Poems, 第 2 巻

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 252 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with...

The Quarterly Review, 第 70 巻

1842 - 788 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with...

The Quarterly Review, 第 70 巻

William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1842 - 558 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with...

The Monthly Review

1842 - 610 ページ
...Time, and turned it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And herwhisper...

Christian Examiner and Theological Review, 第 33 巻

1843 - 424 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with...

Poems, 第 2 巻

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses .And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the...

Poems

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 ページ
...Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the...Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng 'd my pulses with...

The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1845 - 558 ページ
...moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on ill the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with...




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