Poetry for beginners: a selection of short and easy poemsJames Cornwell 1870 |
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Side 24
... hath said , This is my own , my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned , As home his footsteps he hath turned ; From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe , go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures ...
... hath said , This is my own , my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned , As home his footsteps he hath turned ; From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe , go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures ...
Side 45
... hath been dawning Another blue day : Think , wilt thou let it Slip useless away ? Out of Eternity This new day is born ; Into Eternity At night doth return . Behold it aforetime No eyes ever did : So soon it for ever From all eyes is ...
... hath been dawning Another blue day : Think , wilt thou let it Slip useless away ? Out of Eternity This new day is born ; Into Eternity At night doth return . Behold it aforetime No eyes ever did : So soon it for ever From all eyes is ...
Side 64
... hath not forgotten my age ! " ROBERT SOUTHey , 1774—1843 . WRITTEN UNDER MILTON'S PICTURE . THREE poets in three different ages born , Greece , Italy , and England did adorn : The first in loftiness of thought surpassed ; The next in ...
... hath not forgotten my age ! " ROBERT SOUTHey , 1774—1843 . WRITTEN UNDER MILTON'S PICTURE . THREE poets in three different ages born , Greece , Italy , and England did adorn : The first in loftiness of thought surpassed ; The next in ...
Side 67
... Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam , The seasons ' difference ; as the icy fang , And churlish ...
... Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam , The seasons ' difference ; as the icy fang , And churlish ...
Side 80
... hath not seen it , my gentle boy ; Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ! Dreams cannot picture a world so fair , - Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom , For beyond the clouds and ...
... hath not seen it , my gentle boy ; Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ! Dreams cannot picture a world so fair , - Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom , For beyond the clouds and ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
apple beautiful beneath birds blessed bloom blue boat brave breath breeze bright bucket CHARLES MACKAY cheerful child clouds cried dark dead dear dewdrops door ELIZA COOK eyes fair Father William FELICIA HEMANS flowers gleam grace green HARE AND TORTOISE hath hear heard heart heaven holiday holly tree hour Inchcape Rock JANE TAYLOR kiss kittens ladies gay lamb Learn to labour leaves light look Lucy Gray merry merry heart morn mother mountain Mousikin nest never night o'er old arm-chair old oaken bucket play prayer pretty puss quoth rain ROBERT POLLOK rose round shining shore sigh sing sleep smile snow Somebody's Darling song sound Speak gently spring stars storm sweet tear tell thee There's thing thou thought thrush Tis green TOM HOOD Twas voice waves wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM woods young youth
Populære passager
Side 122 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Side 135 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this scepter'd sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself: And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Side 130 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain ; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Side 124 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Side 122 - 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.
Side 60 - THE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter ' Little Prig.' Bun replied, ' You are doubtless very big ; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track ; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither...
Side 134 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Side 24 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well...
Side 25 - Not blither is the mountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb: But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They...
Side 45 - Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.