LyricsHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 |
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Side x
... Happy Heart Dekker 223 A Wish Rogers 224 Song Shelley 225 Dream - Pedlary Beddoes 227 Good - By Hunting Song Youth and Love As Slow our Ship A Canadian Boat - Song The Bells The Bells of Shandon The Day is Done Emerson 228 Scott 230 ...
... Happy Heart Dekker 223 A Wish Rogers 224 Song Shelley 225 Dream - Pedlary Beddoes 227 Good - By Hunting Song Youth and Love As Slow our Ship A Canadian Boat - Song The Bells The Bells of Shandon The Day is Done Emerson 228 Scott 230 ...
Side 24
... happy morn , That day , long wished day Of all my life so dark ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates not hope betray ) , Which only white deserves A diamond for ever should it mark : This is the morn should bring unto this ...
... happy morn , That day , long wished day Of all my life so dark ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates not hope betray ) , Which only white deserves A diamond for ever should it mark : This is the morn should bring unto this ...
Side 27
... happy climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye , Up in the broad fields of the sky : There I suck the liquid air All amidst the Gardens fair Of Hesperus , and his daughters three That sing about 27 The Spirit's Epilogue Milton.
... happy climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye , Up in the broad fields of the sky : There I suck the liquid air All amidst the Gardens fair Of Hesperus , and his daughters three That sing about 27 The Spirit's Epilogue Milton.
Side 56
... happy year ! " O warble unchidden , unbidden ! Summer is coming , is coming , my dear , And all the winters are hidden . 1889 . 16 Lord Tennyson . PHILOMELA HARK ! ah , the nightingale- The tawny - throated ! Hark , from that moonlit ...
... happy year ! " O warble unchidden , unbidden ! Summer is coming , is coming , my dear , And all the winters are hidden . 1889 . 16 Lord Tennyson . PHILOMELA HARK ! ah , the nightingale- The tawny - throated ! Hark , from that moonlit ...
Side 67
... Happy to meet you in these places , Where January brings few faces . " This poet , though he lived apart , Moved by his hospitable heart , Sped , when I passed his sylvan fort , To do the honours of his court , As fits a feathered lord ...
... Happy to meet you in these places , Where January brings few faces . " This poet , though he lived apart , Moved by his hospitable heart , Sped , when I passed his sylvan fort , To do the honours of his court , As fits a feathered lord ...
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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.