Beautiful poetry, selected by the ed. of The Critic, Tom 51858 |
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Strona 142
... dead and cold ; Heave ! woman , heave ! the sigh that never cooleth , Born of the misery that never waxeth old . He , who at morning cheer'd and sustain'd thee , With sweet words and tender , tender and sweet , ' Till earth , with her ...
... dead and cold ; Heave ! woman , heave ! the sigh that never cooleth , Born of the misery that never waxeth old . He , who at morning cheer'd and sustain'd thee , With sweet words and tender , tender and sweet , ' Till earth , with her ...
Strona 155
... dead Pluck at her from below ! Breathe faint and low , ye winds that start ; O stream , but softly swell ; Your every motion smites the heart For little Lilybell ! We tremble lest the Angel Death , Who comes to gather flowers For ...
... dead Pluck at her from below ! Breathe faint and low , ye winds that start ; O stream , but softly swell ; Your every motion smites the heart For little Lilybell ! We tremble lest the Angel Death , Who comes to gather flowers For ...
Strona 156
... dead whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high ? To live in hearts we leave behind , Is not to die . Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He's dead 156 BEAUTIFUL POETRY .
... dead whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high ? To live in hearts we leave behind , Is not to die . Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He's dead 156 BEAUTIFUL POETRY .
Strona 157
Beautiful poetry. Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He's dead alone that lacks her light ! And murder sullies in Heaven's sight The sword he draws : What can alone ennoble fight ? A noble cause ! Give that ! and welcome War to ...
Beautiful poetry. Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He's dead alone that lacks her light ! And murder sullies in Heaven's sight The sword he draws : What can alone ennoble fight ? A noble cause ! Give that ! and welcome War to ...
Strona 167
... dead and gone , Mark Sir Leoline's burial stone ; Thither go not , or I deem almost That thou wilt frighten thy mother's ghost ! Or wilt thou wend to the huge oak - tree , And , kneeling down upon thy knee , Number the beads of thy ...
... dead and gone , Mark Sir Leoline's burial stone ; Thither go not , or I deem almost That thou wilt frighten thy mother's ghost ! Or wilt thou wend to the huge oak - tree , And , kneeling down upon thy knee , Number the beads of thy ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
ALFRED TENNYSON BARRY CORNWALL beams beauty beneath bird bless bloom blue breast breath bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB CHARLES MACKAY child clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream drop dwell earth EBENEZER ELLIOTT evermore eyes fair flowers gaze gentle GERALD MASSEY gleams glory golden country green hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour John Brown kiss land light lips live maiden Mont Blanc moon morning mountain nature's night nought o'er old Saxon pass'd peterel poem poet rill river Lee ROBERT SOUTHEY rose round seem'd shade shadows shining shore sigh silent sing sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream summer sweet SYDNEY DOBELL tears tell thee thine things thou art thought trees turn'd Twas voice wander wave weep wild wind wings
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 159 - O'er other creatures : yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best...
Strona 173 - YES! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.
Strona 87 - How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep ! One, pale as yonder waning moon With lips of lurid blue ; The other, rosy as the morn When throned on ocean's wave It blushes o'er the world : Yet both so passing wonderful...
Strona 384 - And thinking of the days that are no more. 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 383 - The path of duty was the way to glory : He that walks it, only thirsting For the right, and learns to deaden Love of self, before his journey closes, He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Into glossy purples, which outredden All voluptuous garden-roses. Not once or twice in our fair island-story, He, that ever following her commands, On with toil of heart and knees and hands, Thro...
Strona 272 - Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees Bending to counterfeit a breeze; Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew; Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief With quaint arabesques...
Strona 217 - Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun, Before the heavens, thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless Infinite!
Strona 95 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Strona 193 - Wanderers in that happy valley Through two luminous windows saw Spirits moving musically, To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting, "Porphyrogene, In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen.
Strona 383 - And all the rule, one empire: only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far.