Bards and the BirdsReeves and Turner, 1894 - 514 sider |
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Side ix
... heart rather than our mind , and the very essence of whose charm is the subtlety thereof -one is confronted with the additional difficulty of speaking of that theme without appearing so impertinent as to speak for it and its fit ...
... heart rather than our mind , and the very essence of whose charm is the subtlety thereof -one is confronted with the additional difficulty of speaking of that theme without appearing so impertinent as to speak for it and its fit ...
Side x
... heart ; everything morbid and unwholesome flees away ; and he sings of happiness . Sometimes it is the joy of hope : sometimes the bliss of a sunny present sometimes it is the happiness of days INTRODUCTION xi that are gone ; but always ...
... heart ; everything morbid and unwholesome flees away ; and he sings of happiness . Sometimes it is the joy of hope : sometimes the bliss of a sunny present sometimes it is the happiness of days INTRODUCTION xi that are gone ; but always ...
Side xi
... hearts hark back and we would almost give our dearly - purchased know- ledge in exchange , if we might lie down once again in the sunny sleepy hollow and bask inanely . " Did any bird come flying After Adam and Eve , When the door was ...
... hearts hark back and we would almost give our dearly - purchased know- ledge in exchange , if we might lie down once again in the sunny sleepy hollow and bask inanely . " Did any bird come flying After Adam and Eve , When the door was ...
Side xiii
... heart leaps up as we think what delight it would be to skim the air as these little brown things do . Surely wings are another natural attribute of joy . What wonder that we find ourselves , in spite of science , thinking of these ...
... heart leaps up as we think what delight it would be to skim the air as these little brown things do . Surely wings are another natural attribute of joy . What wonder that we find ourselves , in spite of science , thinking of these ...
Side 17
... heart he doth tower , By a glorious upward instinct drawn ; No bee nestles deeper in the flower Than he in the ... hearts no thrill of dread . B Let fraud and wrong and baseness shiver , For still.
... heart he doth tower , By a glorious upward instinct drawn ; No bee nestles deeper in the flower Than he in the ... hearts no thrill of dread . B Let fraud and wrong and baseness shiver , For still.
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
bough bower breast bright CHRISTINA G cloud crow cuckoo D. G. ROSSETTI dark dawn DEATH OF JASON delight dost doth dream eagle earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes FAERIE QUEENE fair feathers flit flowers glad golden grass green grove happy Hark hast hath hear heard heart heaven Jackdaw JEAN INGELOW JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE lark light listen little birds Lord loud melody merry moon morning nest night nightingale o'er permission of Messrs PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON pipe poet R. H. BARHAM raven ring Robin rose round sang sea-gulls SHAKESPEARE silent sing SIR NOËL PATON sleep soar soft song sorrow soul sound spray spring strain stream summer swallow swan sweet SYDNEY DOBELL thee thine things THOMAS WOOLNER thou thought thrill thrush thy garden TITMOUSE tree voice wake warbling wild WILLIAM MORRIS wind wings woods
Populære passager
Side 240 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower.
Side 389 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,
Side 92 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Side 128 - As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made...
Side 46 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Side 346 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Side 234 - Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade, and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That dandelions are blossoming near, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing...
Side 323 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Side 295 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low: So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel; While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest . Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Side 473 - 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 crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who...