An Anthology of English VerseHoughton Mifflin, 1924 - 368 |
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Strona 33
... heads must come , To the cold Tomb , Onely the actions of the just Smell sweet , and blossom in the dust . JAMES SHIRLEY . TO CYNTHIA WHEN I behold the heaven of thy face of English Verse 33 The glories of our blood state, from The ...
... heads must come , To the cold Tomb , Onely the actions of the just Smell sweet , and blossom in the dust . JAMES SHIRLEY . TO CYNTHIA WHEN I behold the heaven of thy face of English Verse 33 The glories of our blood state, from The ...
Strona 43
... heads , Our Garden shall afford ye beds . MATHEW STEVENSON . TO THE SOUL DULL soul aspire , Thou art not earth , mount higher : Heav'n gave the spark , to it return the fire . Let sin ne'er quench Thy high flam'd spirit hence The earth ...
... heads , Our Garden shall afford ye beds . MATHEW STEVENSON . TO THE SOUL DULL soul aspire , Thou art not earth , mount higher : Heav'n gave the spark , to it return the fire . Let sin ne'er quench Thy high flam'd spirit hence The earth ...
Strona 45
... heads with Roses bound , Our hearts with Loyal Flames ; When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe , When Healths and draughts go free , Fishes that tipple in the Deepe , Know no such Libertie . III When ( like committed Linnets ) I With ...
... heads with Roses bound , Our hearts with Loyal Flames ; When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe , When Healths and draughts go free , Fishes that tipple in the Deepe , Know no such Libertie . III When ( like committed Linnets ) I With ...
Strona 53
... Heads : Rome that subdu'd the World , to Time now yields , With Rubbish swells the Plains , and strews the Fields . Think not to see what so Renown'd has been , Nothing of Rome , in Rome is to be seen ; Vulcan and Mars , those wasting ...
... Heads : Rome that subdu'd the World , to Time now yields , With Rubbish swells the Plains , and strews the Fields . Think not to see what so Renown'd has been , Nothing of Rome , in Rome is to be seen ; Vulcan and Mars , those wasting ...
Strona 63
... head . Judge not the Lord by feeble sense , But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence , He hides a smiling face . His purposes will ripen fast , Unfolding ev'ry hour ; The bud may have a bitter taste , But sweet will be ...
... head . Judge not the Lord by feeble sense , But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence , He hides a smiling face . His purposes will ripen fast , Unfolding ev'ry hour ; The bud may have a bitter taste , But sweet will be ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Adonais ancient Mariner Angels beauty BEN JONSON beneath birds blest breast breath bright brow burning cloud cold dark dead dear death delight doth dream dust earth eccho ring eyes face fair fate fear FEET IN ANCIENT fire flame flowers golden green hair hand happy hath haue head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope I'le JOHN JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON kiss light live look Lord loue Lover Lycidas Moon Muse ne'er never night numbers o'er pale Pleasure Porphyro RICHARD CRASHAW ROBERT BROWNING ROBERT HERRICK rose round Saint Samian wine shade ship sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit Spring stars sweet tears tell thee theyr thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat twas voice WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR weep wild WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 171 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is; What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The...
Strona 171 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Strona 77 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Strona 292 - 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 35 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Strona 150 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.
Strona 70 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Strona 118 - And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Strona 289 - The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also. The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean: But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then, like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound.
Strona 118 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor, So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...