Maud, and Other PoemsTicknor and Fields, 1856 - 160 |
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Strona 20
... things of the season gay , like the bountiful season bland , When the far - off sail is blown by the breeze of a softer clime , Half - lost in the liquid azure bloom of a crescent of sea , The silent sapphire - spangled marriage ring of ...
... things of the season gay , like the bountiful season bland , When the far - off sail is blown by the breeze of a softer clime , Half - lost in the liquid azure bloom of a crescent of sea , The silent sapphire - spangled marriage ring of ...
Strona 43
... things , Whose ear is stuft with his cotton , and rings Even in dreams to the chink of his pence , This huckster put down war ! can he tell Whether war be a cause or a consequence ? Put down the passions that make earth Hell ! Down with ...
... things , Whose ear is stuft with his cotton , and rings Even in dreams to the chink of his pence , This huckster put down war ! can he tell Whether war be a cause or a consequence ? Put down the passions that make earth Hell ! Down with ...
Strona 52
... thing complete , However she came to be so allied . And fair without , faithful within , Maud to him is nothing akin : Some peculiar mystic grace . Made her only the child of her mother , And heap'd the whole inherited sin On that huge ...
... thing complete , However she came to be so allied . And fair without , faithful within , Maud to him is nothing akin : Some peculiar mystic grace . Made her only the child of her mother , And heap'd the whole inherited sin On that huge ...
Strona 58
... thing to save My yet young life in the wilds of Time , Perhaps from madness , perhaps from crime , Perhaps from a selfish grave . 2 . What , if she be fasten'd to this fool lord , Dare I bid her abide by her word ? Should I love her so ...
... thing to save My yet young life in the wilds of Time , Perhaps from madness , perhaps from crime , Perhaps from a selfish grave . 2 . What , if she be fasten'd to this fool lord , Dare I bid her abide by her word ? Should I love her so ...
Strona 67
... things below , Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell , Blest , but for some dark under - current woe That seems to draw but it shall not be so : Let all be well , be well . XIX . 1 . STRANGE , that I felt so MAUD . 67.
... things below , Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell , Blest , but for some dark under - current woe That seems to draw but it shall not be so : Let all be well , be well . XIX . 1 . STRANGE , that I felt so MAUD . 67.
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38 cents 50 cents 63 cents babble beat beauty bell be toll'd blood Blush bow'd brimming river brook Cannon cheat Cloth CLOVERNOOK cold crost crush'd dance dark dead dear Death delight dream DUKE OF WELLINGTON echo Edition EDMUND BURKE ESSAYS fair FAIRY fancies feet flash'd flow To join garden girl glimmer glory golden GOLDEN LEGEND gone grace Grace Greenwood grave Half a league Hall hand happy happy day head hear heart Heaven honor James join the brimming Katie land LIGHT BRIGADE lilies look'd lord madness Maud meadow MERRIE ENGLAND night o'er passionate peace people's voice Philip POEMS POETICAL poison'd Portrait Price 50 Price 63 Price 75 cents pride REJECTED ADDRESSES rings rivulet rose Rosy seem'd shadow shining silent smile song stood sweet TANGLEWOOD TALES thee things thou thro turn'd TWICE-TOLD TALES vext walks weep wood
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 76 - The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tree ; The white lake-blossom fell into the lake As the pimpernel dozed on the lea ; But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me ; 50 The lilies and roses were all awake, They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Strona 78 - She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Strona 109 - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.
Strona 117 - ... 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 77 - Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, Come hither, the dances are done, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, Queen lily and rose in one; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the flowers, and be their sun.
Strona 74 - For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die.
Strona 44 - Ah God, for a man with heart, head, hand, Like some of the simple great ones gone For ever and ever by, One still strong man in a blatant land, Whatever they call him, what care I, Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat — one Who can rule and dare not lie.
Strona 158 - Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army while All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Strona 128 - BURY the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation, Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall.
Strona 152 - Anathema,' friend, at you; Should all our churchmen foam in spite At you, so careful of the right, Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight...