LyricsHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 22
Side 54
... cheeks of tender red . 16 The lily is all in white , like a saint , And so is no mate for me ; And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush , She is of such low degree ; Jasmine is sweet , and has many loves , And the broom ' s ...
... cheeks of tender red . 16 The lily is all in white , like a saint , And so is no mate for me ; And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush , She is of such low degree ; Jasmine is sweet , and has many loves , And the broom ' s ...
Side 57
... cheeks and sear'd eyes The too clear web , and thy dumb sister's shame ? Dost thou once more assay Thy flight , and feel come over thee , Poor fugitive , the feathery change Once more , and once more seem to make resound With love and ...
... cheeks and sear'd eyes The too clear web , and thy dumb sister's shame ? Dost thou once more assay Thy flight , and feel come over thee , Poor fugitive , the feathery change Once more , and once more seem to make resound With love and ...
Side 63
... cheeks mantle with mirth , And the unimagined good of men Is yeaning at the birth . Spring still makes spring in the mind , When sixty years are told ; Love wakes anew this throbbing heart , 96 104 1847 . And we are never old . Over the ...
... cheeks mantle with mirth , And the unimagined good of men Is yeaning at the birth . Spring still makes spring in the mind , When sixty years are told ; Love wakes anew this throbbing heart , 96 104 1847 . And we are never old . Over the ...
Side 85
... cheeks are like the blushing cloud That beautifies Aurora's face , Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus ' smiling looks doth grace ; Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Her lips are like two budded roses Whom ranks of lilies neighbour ...
... cheeks are like the blushing cloud That beautifies Aurora's face , Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus ' smiling looks doth grace ; Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Her lips are like two budded roses Whom ranks of lilies neighbour ...
Side 86
... cheek ( but none knows how ) ; With these the crystal of his brow , And then the dimple of his chin , - All these did my Campaspe win . At last he set her both his eyes ; She won , and Cupid blind did rise . O Love ! has she done this ...
... cheek ( but none knows how ) ; With these the crystal of his brow , And then the dimple of his chin , - All these did my Campaspe win . At last he set her both his eyes ; She won , and Cupid blind did rise . O Love ! has she done this ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
beauty bells birds blow bonnie bosom breast breath bright cheek County Guy Cuckoo dare Dark Rosaleen dear delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair Farewell fear flowers golden green Hark hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Highlands kiss ladies light lips live look Lord Tennyson love thee Love's lover Luve Mary merry moon morning ne'er neir gone nest never night nightingale nonny o'er Percy Bysshe Shelley Richard Lovelace Robert Burns Robert Herrick rose Say nay shine shore sighs sing cuccu skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spring star-spangled banner stars stream sweet tears tell thine Thomas Thomas Campion Thomas Carew Thomas Hood thou art thoughts Titmouse tree unto voice wanton waves weary weep wild William Shakespeare wilt thou leave wind wings youth ΙΟ
Populære passager
Side 214 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Side 34 - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
Side 58 - That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Side 249 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep,...
Side 272 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Side 159 - I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet ! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Side 314 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Side 269 - 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!
Side 176 - Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand! The agate lamp within thy hand, Ah! Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!
Side 256 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not.