Beautiful poetry, selected by the ed. of The Critic, Tom 21854 |
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Strona 411
... tell the world their worth ; And I , who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine , Who shared thy joy and sorrow , Whose weal and woe were thine- It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow : But I've in vain essay'd it , And ...
... tell the world their worth ; And I , who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine , Who shared thy joy and sorrow , Whose weal and woe were thine- It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow : But I've in vain essay'd it , And ...
Strona 413
... tell of the shadowy band . We know that the bowers are green and fair In the light of that summer shore , And we know that the friends we have lost are there , They are there - and they weep no more . And we know they have quench'd ...
... tell of the shadowy band . We know that the bowers are green and fair In the light of that summer shore , And we know that the friends we have lost are there , They are there - and they weep no more . And we know they have quench'd ...
Strona 414
... tell us , thou bird of the solemn strain ! Can those who have loved forget ? We call - and they answer not again- Do they love - do they love us yet ? Doth the warrior think of his brother there , And the father of his child ? And the ...
... tell us , thou bird of the solemn strain ! Can those who have loved forget ? We call - and they answer not again- Do they love - do they love us yet ? Doth the warrior think of his brother there , And the father of his child ? And the ...
Strona 416
... Tell me , sad tree , why are thy branches bare ? What hast thou done To win strange winter from the summer air , Frost from the sun ? " Never , " replied that forest - hermit lone 416 BEAUTIFUL POETRY . To a Withered Tree in June ...
... Tell me , sad tree , why are thy branches bare ? What hast thou done To win strange winter from the summer air , Frost from the sun ? " Never , " replied that forest - hermit lone 416 BEAUTIFUL POETRY . To a Withered Tree in June ...
Strona 422
... tell him how I love him , Nor wrong my virgin fame . Alas ! to seize the moment When heart inclines to heart , And press a suit with passion , Is not a woman's part . If man comes not to gather The roses where they 422 BEAUTIFUL POETRY .
... tell him how I love him , Nor wrong my virgin fame . Alas ! to seize the moment When heart inclines to heart , And press a suit with passion , Is not a woman's part . If man comes not to gather The roses where they 422 BEAUTIFUL POETRY .
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Advertisements angels AUCTIONS beauty beneath bird blue bound breath bright child Church cloth clouds complete dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall feel flowers friends gentle give glad grace grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour JOHN JOURNAL kind land leaves light lips live look morning Nature never night numbers o'er once Passages poem POETRY POETS poor Property Published ready rest rose round SACRED Sales seen sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stand stars summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought tree voice wanted wave wild wind wings young 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...