Folk SongsJohn Williamson Palmer Charles Scribner, 1861 - 466 |
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Strona
... upon With songs of sadness The first That they might touch the hearts of men , youth with soul of fire , Through groves he dered , and by streams Playing the e of dre Ilenny W. Longfellow CONTENTS . PAGE THE RIVER TIME . O ! a.
... upon With songs of sadness The first That they might touch the hearts of men , youth with soul of fire , Through groves he dered , and by streams Playing the e of dre Ilenny W. Longfellow CONTENTS . PAGE THE RIVER TIME . O ! a.
Strona 4
... Playing the music of our dreams . The second , with a bearded face , Stood singing in the market - place , And stirred , with accents deep and loud , The hearts of all the listening crowd . A gray old man , the third and last , Sang in ...
... Playing the music of our dreams . The second , with a bearded face , Stood singing in the market - place , And stirred , with accents deep and loud , The hearts of all the listening crowd . A gray old man , the third and last , Sang in ...
Strona 20
... fisherman's boy , That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad . That he sings in his boat on the bay ! THE PASSAGE . And the stately ships go on To. BREAK , BREAK , BREAK ! 20 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! THE PASSAGE ...
... fisherman's boy , That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad . That he sings in his boat on the bay ! THE PASSAGE . And the stately ships go on To. BREAK , BREAK , BREAK ! 20 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! THE PASSAGE ...
Strona 37
... Few sorrows hath she of her own , My hope , my joy , my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve . I played a soft and doleful air ; I sang E 37 All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
... Few sorrows hath she of her own , My hope , my joy , my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve . I played a soft and doleful air ; I sang E 37 All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Strona 38
John Williamson Palmer. I played a soft and doleful air ; I sang an old and moving story : An old , rude song , that suited well That ruin wild and hoary . She listened with a flitting blush , With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For ...
John Williamson Palmer. I played a soft and doleful air ; I sang an old and moving story : An old , rude song , that suited well That ruin wild and hoary . She listened with a flitting blush , With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For ...
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ALFRED TENNYSON angels Annabel Lee beautiful bells beneath bird blessed Bobbett bonnie bosom boys breast breath bride bright brow cave of silver cheek cold d'ye dead dear Death deep door doth dream EUGENE ARAM eyes face fair fear feet flowers friends grave grief hair hand hath head hear heart Heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Hurrah kiss land lassie light lips live look maiden Mary MAUD MULLER merry morning ne'er never Nevermore night o'er pale raven river river Lee ROBERT HERRICK rose round sailor Shandon shine sighs silent sing SIR PATRICK SPENS sleep smile snow soft SONG sorrow soul spirit stars Summer sweet SYDNEY DOBELL tears tell thee There's thine THOMAS HOOD thou thought tree Twas wander weary weel weep wild Willie wind YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 168 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Strona 243 - ... 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, The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birth-day,— The tree is living yet!
Strona 172 - Stitch — stitch — stitch — In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt! "But why do I talk of Death? That phantom of grisly bone. I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep; O God!
Strona 60 - Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river; Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurled — Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world!
Strona 181 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade...
Strona 89 - That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing! And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well.
Strona 262 - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
Strona 302 - But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, and door ; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
Strona 163 - With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love...
Strona 308 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.