Co mówią ludzie - Napisz recenzję
Nie znaleziono żadnych recenzji w standardowych lokalizacjach.
Inne wydania - Wyświetl wszystko
accompaniment admirable advance American appeared arranged artist audience beautiful become Beethoven Boston called cents chorus Church collection complete composer compositions concert consisting edition effect execution Exercises expression feeling four friends German give given grand Hall hand harmony hear heard heart Instructions interest Italian Italy Journal less living London manner master means melody Mozart musicians nature never notes once opera orchestra organ original overture perfect performance persons Piano Forte pieces played popular practice present produced published received School seems selected singers singing Society song soprano soul sound spirit Street style success sung Symphony taste Teachers thing thought tion tone translated true tunes violin vocal voice Washington whole York young
Strona 16 - 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.
Strona 97 - But never elsewhere in one place I knew So many nightingales ; and far and near, In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, They answer and provoke each other's song, With skirmish and capricious passagings, And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, And one low piping sound more sweet than all — • Stirring the air with such a harmony, That should you close your eyes, you might almost Forget it was not day ! On moon-lit bushes.
Strona 97 - Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes, That gentle Maid ! and oft, a moment's space, What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, Hath heard a pause of silence...
Strona 97 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes; As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Strona 72 - 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.
Strona 128 - Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave.
Strona 72 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Strona 41 - May sun sheds an amber light On new-leaved woods and lawns between ; But she who, with a smile more bright, Welcomed and watched the springing green, Is in her grave, Low in her grave. The fair white blossoms of the wood In groups beside the pathway stand ; But one, the gentle and the good, Who cropped them with a fairer hand, Is in her grave, Low in her grave. Upon the woodland's morning airs The small birds...