Poems, Tom 2Edward Moxon & Company, Dover Street, 1868 - 879 |
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Strona 17
... fire . XVI . WHAT words are these have fall'n from me ? Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast , Or sorrow such a changeling be ? Or doth she only seem to take The touch of change in calm or storm ; But knows no ...
... fire . XVI . WHAT words are these have fall'n from me ? Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast , Or sorrow such a changeling be ? Or doth she only seem to take The touch of change in calm or storm ; But knows no ...
Strona 37
... fire , As flies the lighter thro ' the gross . But thou art turn'd to something strange , And I have lost the links that bound Thy changes ; here upon the ground , No more partaker of thy change . Deep folly ! yet that this could be ...
... fire , As flies the lighter thro ' the gross . But thou art turn'd to something strange , And I have lost the links that bound Thy changes ; here upon the ground , No more partaker of thy change . Deep folly ! yet that this could be ...
Strona 46
... fire , Or but subserves another's gain . Behold , we know not anything ; I can but trust that good shall fall At last- far off at last , to all , And every winter change to spring . So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying in ...
... fire , Or but subserves another's gain . Behold , we know not anything ; I can but trust that good shall fall At last- far off at last , to all , And every winter change to spring . So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying in ...
Strona 66
... sadness in the summer moons ? Bring orchis , bring the foxglove spire , The little speedwell's darling blue , Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew , Laburnums , dropping - wells of fire . O thou , new - year , delaying long , 66 IN MEMORIAM .
... sadness in the summer moons ? Bring orchis , bring the foxglove spire , The little speedwell's darling blue , Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew , Laburnums , dropping - wells of fire . O thou , new - year , delaying long , 66 IN MEMORIAM .
Strona 67
... But th Made Despair o I seem to To Is Beside and boys of thine n my knee ; iron hour orange - flower , arth of thee . st desire , ks , to call the faces shine ed fire . Eternal process moving on , From state to state the. IN MEMORIAM . 67.
... But th Made Despair o I seem to To Is Beside and boys of thine n my knee ; iron hour orange - flower , arth of thee . st desire , ks , to call the faces shine ed fire . Eternal process moving on , From state to state the. IN MEMORIAM . 67.
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat Aylmer beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot chidden child dark dark moor dead dear death diamond dream Dubric earth Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear feet flower follow'd Gawain Geraint glory golden gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy head hear heard heart heaven horse hour jousts Katie King kiss'd knew land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look'd lord maid maiden martial music Maud Merlin morn moved never night noble o'er once passion peace poison'd Prince Queen Ring Ringlet rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star stood sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro tower true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wrought
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 73 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Strona 5 - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Strona 181 - 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 43 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Strona 3 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Strona 182 - Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro...
Strona 160 - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers ; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows ; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses ; I linger by my shingly bars ; I loiter round my cresses ; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Strona 141 - She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, " She is late ; " The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers,
Strona 180 - O WELL for him whose will is strong ! He suffers, but he will not suffer long ; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong : For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. II. But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro...
Strona 140 - 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 ; From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That, whenever a March-wind sighs, He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet And the valleys of Paradise.