The Library of Poetry and Song, Tom 3William Cullen Bryant Doubleday, Page, 1925 - 1100 "A comprehensive exhibit of poetic literature" -- Preface. A collection of English and American poetry on topics such as nature and childhood. |
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Strona 727
... hath assignde ; Though much I want that most would have , Yet still my minde forbids to crave . Content I live ; this is my stay , I seek no more than may suffice . I presse to beare no haughtie sway ; Look , what I lack my mind ...
... hath assignde ; Though much I want that most would have , Yet still my minde forbids to crave . Content I live ; this is my stay , I seek no more than may suffice . I presse to beare no haughtie sway ; Look , what I lack my mind ...
Strona 728
... hath in it the more of heavenly light , So it the fairer body doth procure To habit in , and it more fairly dight With cheerful grace and amiable sight ; For of the soul the body form doth take ; For soul is form , and doth the body ...
... hath in it the more of heavenly light , So it the fairer body doth procure To habit in , and it more fairly dight With cheerful grace and amiable sight ; For of the soul the body form doth take ; For soul is form , and doth the body ...
Strona 732
... hath a million acres , ne'er a one have I ; Cleon dwelleth in a palace , in a cottage I ; Cleon hath a dozen fortunes , not a penny I ; Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon , and not I. Cleon , true , possesseth acres , but the ...
... hath a million acres , ne'er a one have I ; Cleon dwelleth in a palace , in a cottage I ; Cleon hath a dozen fortunes , not a penny I ; Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon , and not I. Cleon , true , possesseth acres , but the ...
Strona 736
... hath never lost . I know what say the fathers wise , The Book itself before me lies , Old Chrysostom , best Augustine , And he who blent both in his line , The younger Golden Lips or mines , Taylor , the Shakespeare of divines . His ...
... hath never lost . I know what say the fathers wise , The Book itself before me lies , Old Chrysostom , best Augustine , And he who blent both in his line , The younger Golden Lips or mines , Taylor , the Shakespeare of divines . His ...
Strona 737
... hath his life from rumors freed ; Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; Whose state can neither flatterers feed , Nor ruin make accusers great ; Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend , And entertains ...
... hath his life from rumors freed ; Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; Whose state can neither flatterers feed , Nor ruin make accusers great ; Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend , And entertains ...
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Acti ALEXANDER POPE ALFRED TENNYSON Anne Hathaway beauty BEN JONSON beneath breast breath bright brow Cæsar captain's gig clouds cried dark dead dear death Deborah Lee deep doth dream earth Epistle eyes face fair fairy fame fancy fear flowers fool frae gentle glory grave gray hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hour Hudibras Julius Cæsar Kilmeny King lady land laugh light live look Lord Macbeth Merchant of Venice mind mortal ne'er never nevermore night o'er Paradise Lost pleasure poor POPE pride quoth rose round SHAKESPEARE sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine things THOMAS HOOD thou thought turned voice waves wild WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings wonder young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 798 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Strona 920 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Strona 858 - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Strona 822 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Strona 876 - And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Strona 737 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And, having nothing, yet hath all.
Strona 822 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Strona 812 - Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise...
Strona 876 - Cassius' dagger through: See, what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar...
Strona 853 - 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...