Hoekzema's Gleanings from English PoetryJ.B. Wolters, 1893 - 334 sider |
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Side 35
... Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock , - " O Christ ! it is the Inchcape Rock ! " Sir Ralp the Rover tore his hair ; He curst himself in his despair ; The waves rush in on every side , The ship is sinking beneath the tide ...
... Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock , - " O Christ ! it is the Inchcape Rock ! " Sir Ralp the Rover tore his hair ; He curst himself in his despair ; The waves rush in on every side , The ship is sinking beneath the tide ...
Side 49
... till day broke I listened for your breath . Some day to wake , and find that coloured skies , And pipings in the woods , and petals wet , Are things for aching memory to forget ; And that your living hands and mouth and eyes Are part of ...
... till day broke I listened for your breath . Some day to wake , and find that coloured skies , And pipings in the woods , and petals wet , Are things for aching memory to forget ; And that your living hands and mouth and eyes Are part of ...
Side 53
... Till sight and hearing ache For objects that may keep The awful inner sense Unroused , lest it should mark The life that haunts the emptiness And horror of the dark ! How strange at night the bay Of dogs , how wild the note Of cocks ...
... Till sight and hearing ache For objects that may keep The awful inner sense Unroused , lest it should mark The life that haunts the emptiness And horror of the dark ! How strange at night the bay Of dogs , how wild the note Of cocks ...
Side 55
... captain's gig . " And he shook his fists and he tore his hair , Till I really felt afraid , For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking , And so I simply said : " Oh , elderly man , it's little I know 55 The Cradle, H A DOBSON.
... captain's gig . " And he shook his fists and he tore his hair , Till I really felt afraid , For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking , And so I simply said : " Oh , elderly man , it's little I know 55 The Cradle, H A DOBSON.
Side 56
... Till a - hungry we did feel , So we drawed a lot , and , accordin ' shot The captain for our meal . " The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate , And a delicate dish he made ; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed ...
... Till a - hungry we did feel , So we drawed a lot , and , accordin ' shot The captain for our meal . " The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate , And a delicate dish he made ; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed ...
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Andre udgaver - Se alle
Hoekzema's Gleanings From English Poetry (Classic Reprint) David Hoekzema Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2018 |
Hoekzema's Gleanings From English Poetry (Classic Reprint) David Hoekzema Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2017 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Annabel Lee Annie bells beneath bird blow body kiss brave breath bright brow captain's gig child Couldst thou COVENTRY PATMORE cried dark dead dear death deep Don José's mule doth earth Enoch Excalibur eyes face fair father fear fell flowers golden gone grave grew guilders hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON hill HOEKZEMA Inchcape Rock Ivy green Jacintha King King Arthur kiss knew land light live lonely look Lord Marmion moon morning mountain never night o'er Philip Poetry quoth Robin Adair rose round sail seem'd ship shore silent sing Sir Bedivere skies sleep smile snow song soul sound stars stept stood sweet tears thee thine things thou hast thou not watch thought thro Twas voice waves weep White Ship wild wind wings
Populære passager
Side 152 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Side 6 - 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 138 - Reaper. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Side 167 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Side 42 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Side 167 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Side 169 - Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl; The volcanos are dim, and the stars reel and swim. When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained...
Side 89 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Side 184 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Side 296 - In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight.