The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1866 - 188 |
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Strona 61
... on the gate , And our three lives . True - we had limed ourselves With open eyes , and we must take the chance . But such extremes , I told her , well might harm The woman's cause . " Not more than now , A MEDLEY . 61.
... on the gate , And our three lives . True - we had limed ourselves With open eyes , and we must take the chance . But such extremes , I told her , well might harm The woman's cause . " Not more than now , A MEDLEY . 61.
Strona 62
A Medley Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. The woman's cause . " Not more than now , " she said , } " So puddled as it is with favouritism . " I tried the mother's heart . Shame might befal Melissa , knowing , saying not she knew : Her ...
A Medley Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. The woman's cause . " Not more than now , " she said , } " So puddled as it is with favouritism . " I tried the mother's heart . Shame might befal Melissa , knowing , saying not she knew : Her ...
Strona 100
... in iron burst the ranks of war , Or , falling , protomartyr of our cause , Die yet I blame you not so much for fear ; : Six thousand years of fear have made you that From which I would redeem you : but for those 100 THE PRINCESS ;
... in iron burst the ranks of war , Or , falling , protomartyr of our cause , Die yet I blame you not so much for fear ; : Six thousand years of fear have made you that From which I would redeem you : but for those 100 THE PRINCESS ;
Strona 103
... cause , But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands , The weight of destiny : so from her face They push'd us , down the steps , and thro ' the court , And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates . We cross'd the street and gain'd a ...
... cause , But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands , The weight of destiny : so from her face They push'd us , down the steps , and thro ' the court , And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates . We cross'd the street and gain'd a ...
Strona 111
... cause and mine- Where shall I breathe ? why kept ye not your faith ? O base and bad ! what comfort ? none for me ! ' To whom remorseful Cyril Yet I pray Take comfort live , dear lady , for your child ! ' At which she lifted up her voice ...
... cause and mine- Where shall I breathe ? why kept ye not your faith ? O base and bad ! what comfort ? none for me ! ' To whom remorseful Cyril Yet I pray Take comfort live , dear lady , for your child ! ' At which she lifted up her voice ...
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answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow boys broken brows call'd cataract cheek child clamour clash'd cried Cyril dark dash'd daughter dead dear death dipt dream dropt dying enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fell fight Florian flowers flying follow'd gain'd gazed girl glance glowworm half hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land laugh'd light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved Muses night noble o'er ourself palace peace Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's push'd rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shadow shame shook smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet Sweet and low Sweet dream talk'd tears tender thee thou thought thro troth True woman trumpet turn'd vext voice wild Winter's tale woman women
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 54 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Strona 136 - Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee— Like summer tempest came her tears— ' Sweet my child, I live for thee.
Strona 74 - The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Strona 168 - To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns...
Strona 76 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Strona 67 - What ! tho' your Prince's love were like a God's, Have we not made ourself the sacrifice 1 You are bold indeed : we are not talk'd to thus : Yet will we say for children, would they grew Like field-flowers everywhere ! we like them well : But children die ; and let me tell you, girl, Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die ; They with the sun and moon renew their light For ever, blessing those that look on them.
Strona 77 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Strona 77 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Strona 180 - The little boys begin to shoot and stab, A kingdom topples over with a shriek Like an old woman, and down rolls the world In mock heroics stranger than our own ; Revolts, republics, revolutions, most No graver than a schoolboys...
Strona 20 - Proud look'd the lips: but while I meditated A wind arose and rush'd upon the South, And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks Of the wild woods together; and a Voice Went with it, " Follow, follow, thou shall win." Then, ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield, I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian, unperceived, Cat-footed thro...