Beautiful poetry, selected by the ed. of The Critic, Tom 21854 |
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Strona 388
... Singing VAUGHAN , Early Rising and Prayer Timber A good Man's Grave VAUX , LORD , On his white Hairs V. page 58 ... 155 ... 329 392 ... 414 ... ... 470 : 106 321 178 365 425 503 323 W. WATTS , ALARIC A. The Esian Harp ... I think of ...
... Singing VAUGHAN , Early Rising and Prayer Timber A good Man's Grave VAUX , LORD , On his white Hairs V. page 58 ... 155 ... 329 392 ... 414 ... ... 470 : 106 321 178 365 425 503 323 W. WATTS , ALARIC A. The Esian Harp ... I think of ...
Strona 409
... singing to himself Upon a hill in heaven , and leave his mind As dark and turbid as a trampled pool , To purify at leisure . I have none To listen to me , save a sinful woman Upon a midnight bridge . She was so fair , - God's eye could ...
... singing to himself Upon a hill in heaven , and leave his mind As dark and turbid as a trampled pool , To purify at leisure . I have none To listen to me , save a sinful woman Upon a midnight bridge . She was so fair , - God's eye could ...
Strona 415
... sings ! oh how she sings ! HOME AND FRIENDS . By CHARLES SWAIN . Он , there's a power to make each hour As sweet as Heaven design'd it ; Nor need we roam to bring it home , Though few there be that find it ! We seek too high for things ...
... sings ! oh how she sings ! HOME AND FRIENDS . By CHARLES SWAIN . Он , there's a power to make each hour As sweet as Heaven design'd it ; Nor need we roam to bring it home , Though few there be that find it ! We seek too high for things ...
Strona 417
... singing with the happy spheres ; Not a string jars , but all is harmony . Night is the beautiful black slave of God , And bends before him ever wrapt in awe , While her great heart throbs thanks in burning stars ! BIGG . BOOKS . Some ...
... singing with the happy spheres ; Not a string jars , but all is harmony . Night is the beautiful black slave of God , And bends before him ever wrapt in awe , While her great heart throbs thanks in burning stars ! BIGG . BOOKS . Some ...
Strona 421
... SING unto my roundelay , O ! drop the briny tear with me , Dance no more at holiday , Like a running river be : My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow tree . Black his hair as the winter night , White his skin ...
... SING unto my roundelay , O ! drop the briny tear with me , Dance no more at holiday , Like a running river be : My love is dead , Gone to his death - bed , All under the willow tree . Black his hair as the winter night , White his skin ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
a-thynkynge Advertisements Advowsons angels Archæological BARRY CORNWALL BEAUTIFUL POETRY beneath bird Bookseller breath bright brow child Choice Passages Church and University CLERICAL JOURNAL cloth clouds Consisting of Choice dark dead death doth dream earth EBENEZER ELLIOTT Edited by H. G. Essex Street eyes face fair flowers Foolscap 8vo friends gentle GERALD MASSEY glad grace green GROOMBRIDGE H. G. ADAMS happy hast hath heart heaven hope JOHN CROCKFORD JOURNAL and CHURCH JOURNAL OF AUCTIONS land light lips live MARY HOWITT merry England morning N. P. WILLIS night numbers o'er P. J. Bailey pass'd poem POETICAL QUOTATIONS POETS prayer Property Published round SACRED POETRY SACRED POETS seem'd SHAKSPERE sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soul spirit stars Strand sweet tears thee thine thought tree Twas United Kingdom University Chronicle voice wave wild wind wings youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 499 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Strona 459 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from starlike eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires ; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires. Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes...
Strona 444 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Strona 459 - mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee — Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young ! When I was young? — Ah, woful when! Ah ! for the change 'twixt Now and Then ! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands How lightly then it...
Strona 417 - And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air ; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.
Strona 456 - Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim, Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar and to anticipate the skies.
Strona 499 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Strona 416 - Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Strona 502 - WiLL you walk into my parlour'?" said the Spider to the Fly, "'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy; The way into my parlour is up a -winding stair, And I have many curious things to shew when you are there." " Oh no, no," said the little Fly, " to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.
Strona 461 - Yet abandon'd to thy will, Yet imagining no ill, Yet too innocent to blush ; Like the linnet in the bush To the mother-linnet's note Moduling her slender throat ; Chirping forth thy petty joys, Wanton in the change of toys, Like the linnet green, in May Flitting to each bloomy spray ; Wearied then and glad...