An Anthology of English VerseHoughton Mifflin, 1924 - 368 |
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Strona 11
... rise , yet feare to fal . A chaunce may winne that by mischaunce was lost , That net that holds no great , takes little fish ; In some things all , in all things none are crost , Fewe all they neede : but none haue all they wish ...
... rise , yet feare to fal . A chaunce may winne that by mischaunce was lost , That net that holds no great , takes little fish ; In some things all , in all things none are crost , Fewe all they neede : but none haue all they wish ...
Strona 21
... rise ? You Curious Chanters of the Wood , That warble forth Dame Natures layes , Thinking your Voyces understood By your weake accents ; whats your praise When Philomell her voyce shall raise ? You Violets , that first apeare , By your ...
... rise ? You Curious Chanters of the Wood , That warble forth Dame Natures layes , Thinking your Voyces understood By your weake accents ; whats your praise When Philomell her voyce shall raise ? You Violets , that first apeare , By your ...
Strona 25
... rise , Doth aske a drinke diuine : But might I of Jove's Nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee , late , a rosie wreath , Not so much honoring thee , As giuing it a hope , that there It could not withered bee . But thou ...
... rise , Doth aske a drinke diuine : But might I of Jove's Nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee , late , a rosie wreath , Not so much honoring thee , As giuing it a hope , that there It could not withered bee . But thou ...
Strona 61
... rise , More dreadful , from each foreign stroke : As the loud blast that tears the skies , Serves but to root thy native oak . Rule , Britannia , rule the waves ; Britons never will be slaves . Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame ...
... rise , More dreadful , from each foreign stroke : As the loud blast that tears the skies , Serves but to root thy native oak . Rule , Britannia , rule the waves ; Britons never will be slaves . Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame ...
Strona 79
... grave ! " Thus did the dead man say : " A sound of melody I crave Upon my burial - day . II " Bring forth some tuneful instrument , And let your voices rise : My spirit listened , as it went , To music of English Verse 79 The Dirge.
... grave ! " Thus did the dead man say : " A sound of melody I crave Upon my burial - day . II " Bring forth some tuneful instrument , And let your voices rise : My spirit listened , as it went , To music of English Verse 79 The Dirge.
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...