The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageSever and Francis, 1869 - 405 sider |
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Side xii
... less give each portion its distinctive character , they might be called the Books of Shakespeare , Milton , Gray , and Words- worth . The volume , in this respect , so far as the limitations of its range allow , accurately reflects the ...
... less give each portion its distinctive character , they might be called the Books of Shakespeare , Milton , Gray , and Words- worth . The volume , in this respect , so far as the limitations of its range allow , accurately reflects the ...
Side xiii
... less strength than sweetness , or more thought than mastery in expression , are printed in this volume , it should not be imagined that they have been excluded without much hesitation and regret , far less that they have been slighted ...
... less strength than sweetness , or more thought than mastery in expression , are printed in this volume , it should not be imagined that they have been excluded without much hesitation and regret , far less that they have been slighted ...
Side 46
LVII LIFE HE World's a bubble , and the Life of Man THE Less than a span : In his conception wretched , from the womb So to the tomb ; Curst from his cradle , and brought up to years With cares and fears . Who then to frail mortality ...
LVII LIFE HE World's a bubble , and the Life of Man THE Less than a span : In his conception wretched , from the womb So to the tomb ; Curst from his cradle , and brought up to years With cares and fears . Who then to frail mortality ...
Side 58
... and quell ? When Jubal struck the chorded shell His listening brethren stood around , And , wondering , on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound . Less than a God they thought there could not dwell 58 The Golden Treasury.
... and quell ? When Jubal struck the chorded shell His listening brethren stood around , And , wondering , on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound . Less than a God they thought there could not dwell 58 The Golden Treasury.
Side 59
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well . What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms , With shrill notes of ...
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well . What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms , With shrill notes of ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
adieu Love Arethuse beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek chidden clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory green happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven Heigh hills Kirconnell kiss lady leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry Rosaline rose round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree voice waly waly waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Populære passager
Side 213 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Side 289 - Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Highe'r still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Side 21 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Side 353 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Side 76 - 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.
Side 366 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Side 369 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years
Side 74 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Side 174 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign' d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Side 351 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height The locks of the approaching storm.