Nightingale Valley: A Collection, Including a Great Number of the Choicest Lyrics and Short Poems in the English LanguageBell and Daldy, 1860 - 288 sider |
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Side 70
... Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon Emerging , hath awaken'd earth and sky With one sensation , and these wakeful birds Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy , As if some sudden gale had swept at once A hundred airy harps ...
... Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon Emerging , hath awaken'd earth and sky With one sensation , and these wakeful birds Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy , As if some sudden gale had swept at once A hundred airy harps ...
Side 72
... for the air ' Gins to thicken , and the sun Already his great course hath run . See the dew - drops how they kiss Every little flower that is ; Hanging on their velvet heads Like a rope of crystal 72 NIGHTINGALE VALLEY .
... for the air ' Gins to thicken , and the sun Already his great course hath run . See the dew - drops how they kiss Every little flower that is ; Hanging on their velvet heads Like a rope of crystal 72 NIGHTINGALE VALLEY .
Side 76
... hath been , As some divinely gifted man , Whose life in low estate began And on a simple village green ; Who breaks his birth's invidious bar , And grasps the skirts of happy chance , And breasts the blows of circumstance , And grapples ...
... hath been , As some divinely gifted man , Whose life in low estate began And on a simple village green ; Who breaks his birth's invidious bar , And grasps the skirts of happy chance , And breasts the blows of circumstance , And grapples ...
Side 86
... hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 1 Quaff , oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the raven , " Nevermore . " " Prophet ! " said I ...
... hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 1 Quaff , oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the raven , " Nevermore . " " Prophet ! " said I ...
Side 87
... hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! -quit the bust above my door ! Take thy beak from out my heart , and take thy form from off my door ! Quoth the raven , " Nevermore . " And the raven , never flitting , still is sitting ...
... hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! -quit the bust above my door ! Take thy beak from out my heart , and take thy form from off my door ! Quoth the raven , " Nevermore . " And the raven , never flitting , still is sitting ...
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Nightingale Valley: A Collection, Including a Great Number of the Choicest ... William Allingham Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2018 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Auld Robin Gray BALLAD bells bird bonnie bough bowers breast breath bright burning Busk chamber door cheek Clerk Saunders cold COLERIDGE dance dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edom Eugene Aram eyes fair fairy flowers frae Glen grave green grey hair hand happy HARTLEY COLERIDGE hath hear heart heaven heigh-ho hour kiss'd lady Lady Anne Lindsay lay a-thinking leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Randal loud lover melancholy merry mither morning mountain ne'er never Nevermore night o'er pale Quoth the raven Richard Lovelace river rose round sall seem'd shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul stars sweet tears tempests thee thine thou thought turn'd Twas unto verses violets wave weary weep wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM WILLIAM BLAKE wind wings WORDSWORTH Yarrow
Populære passager
Side 105 - Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For eve^r and for ever when I move. \j^ How dull it is to pause, to make an end, $> To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho
Side 96 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?
Side 143 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Side 39 - 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 ! I remember, I remember...
Side 85 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Side 142 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Side 160 - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Side 63 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting; The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may...
Side 25 - Her mantle laps Over my lady's wrist too much,' or 'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat.
Side 141 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...