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beat beauty better blood break breath brook brother bury Cannon close cold comes dance dark dead dear Death deep delight dream earth echo eyes face fair fall father fear feet garden glory golden gone grave grow half Hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven honour hour hundred James Katie keep kind land light lilies live looks lord Maud meadow meet mind moor mother move never night once pain pass passionate peace poor pride rings river rose round seem'd seems shadow shining side silent smile sound spirit spoke stand stood Strange sweet talk thee thing thou thought thro Till true VIII voice walks watch weep wind wood wrong
Strona 121 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Strona 169 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Strona 74 - For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die.
Strona 95 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee : Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Strona 75 - She is weary of dance and play.' Now half to the setting moon are gone, And half to the rising day ; Low on the sand and loud on the stone The last wheel echoes away.
Strona 77 - And the soul of the rose went into my blood. As the music clash'd in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all...
Strona 146 - Of Europe, keep our noble England whole, And save the one true seed of freedom sown Betwixt a people and their ancient throne, That sober freedom out of which there springs Our loyal passion for our temperate kings!
Strona 139 - O friends, our chief state-oracle is mute : Mourn for the man of long-enduring blood, The statesman-warrior, moderate, resolute, Whole in himself, a common good. Mourn for the man of amplest influence, Yet clearest of ambitious crime...