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Every Day in the Year A Poetical Epitome of the World's History (Classic ...
James Lauren Ford
Peržiūra negalima - 2017
arms battle beneath blood born brave breath bright cheer close cold comes crown dare dark dead dear death deep died dream earth England English eyes face fair fall fame father fear feet fell field fight fire flag flame flowers fought gave give glory grave guns hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hold honor hope Italy John King land leave light living look Lord March morning never night o'er once passed peace proud rest ring rise rose round ship shore side sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood strong sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned victory voice wave wild wind
122 psl. - O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant ; that from these may grow A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
57 psl. - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
117 psl. - O Captain ! My Captain ! Our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
327 psl. - SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho...
342 psl. - Pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
406 psl. - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
342 psl. - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
380 psl. - Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise : See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes...
278 psl. - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.