Choice English LyricsSilver, Burdett, 1894 - 368 sider |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 21
Side 8
... Happy Rose 12. Phillida Flouts Me 13. An Appeal • 14. The Passionate Shepherd to his Love . 15. The Shepherdess's Reply 16. Little but Long 17. Pastoral 18. Silent Music 19. Samela 20. To Helen . 21. My Jean . 22. Mary Morison . 23 ...
... Happy Rose 12. Phillida Flouts Me 13. An Appeal • 14. The Passionate Shepherd to his Love . 15. The Shepherdess's Reply 16. Little but Long 17. Pastoral 18. Silent Music 19. Samela 20. To Helen . 21. My Jean . 22. Mary Morison . 23 ...
Side 10
... Happy Life 22. The Quiet Life . 23. The Easy Life . 24. Content . 25. Melancolia : 26. On Melancholy • Sir Henry Wotton Alexander Pope • Robert Herrick . Thomas Dekker Francis Beaumont Robert Burton . 267 268 · 269 270 • 271 272 PAGE 27 ...
... Happy Life 22. The Quiet Life . 23. The Easy Life . 24. Content . 25. Melancolia : 26. On Melancholy • Sir Henry Wotton Alexander Pope • Robert Herrick . Thomas Dekker Francis Beaumont Robert Burton . 267 268 · 269 270 • 271 272 PAGE 27 ...
Side 69
... putting to the main , At Caux , the mouth of Seine , With all his martial train , Landed King Harry . And taking many a fort , Furnished in warlike sort , Marcheth towards Agincourt , In happy hour ; Skirmishing day 69.
... putting to the main , At Caux , the mouth of Seine , With all his martial train , Landed King Harry . And taking many a fort , Furnished in warlike sort , Marcheth towards Agincourt , In happy hour ; Skirmishing day 69.
Side 70
James Baldwin. Marcheth towards Agincourt , In happy hour ; Skirmishing day by day With those that stopped his way , Where the French general lay With all his power . Which in his height of pride , King Henry to deride , His ransom to ...
James Baldwin. Marcheth towards Agincourt , In happy hour ; Skirmishing day by day With those that stopped his way , Where the French general lay With all his power . Which in his height of pride , King Henry to deride , His ransom to ...
Side 103
... Happy is he o'er whose decline The smiles of home may soothing shine , And light him down the steep of years- But oh ! how blessed they sink to rest , Who close their eyes on victory's breast ! O'er his watch - fire's fading embers Now ...
... Happy is he o'er whose decline The smiles of home may soothing shine , And light him down the steep of years- But oh ! how blessed they sink to rest , Who close their eyes on victory's breast ! O'er his watch - fire's fading embers Now ...
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Andre udgaver - Se alle
Almindelige termer og sætninger
abbot auld Avès ballad Barbara Allen battle BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN BATTLE OF NASEBY beauty birds blood blow bonnie breast bright Charlemagne cheek crown dead dear death deep doth dreams earth English eyes fair father flowers gallant glory grace grave green hair hand hath head hear heart heaven hill hour John King kiss Lady Clare land light live Lochinvar look Lord lovers maidens merry Minstrels and maids moon mother ne'er never night numbers o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY pibroch poem Procne Richard Barnfield ride ROBERT HERRICK Robin Hood rode rose Samian wine shepherds sigh sing sister sleep smile snow song sorrow soul Spirit spring star steed summer sweet tear tell Tereus thee thine thou art thou hast Toll slowly tree TWA BROTHERS TWA SISTERS unto waves wild WILLIAM WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
Populære passager
Side 48 - 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 54 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Side 200 - TO HELEN 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.
Side 94 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Side 186 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Side 73 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Side 49 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Side 158 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face. That never a hall such a galliard did grace: While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Side 186 - GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying : And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
Side 102 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.