Golden Number: A Book of Verse for YouthMrs. Kate Douglas (Smith) Wiggins, Nora Archibald Smith Doubleday, Page, 1916 - 686 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 32
17 psl.
... turned my maple's leaves to gold ; The most are gone now ; here and there one lingers : Soon these will slip from out the twigs ' weak hold , Like coins between a dying miser's fingers . THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH . A Chanted " Down to Sleep ...
... turned my maple's leaves to gold ; The most are gone now ; here and there one lingers : Soon these will slip from out the twigs ' weak hold , Like coins between a dying miser's fingers . THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH . A Chanted " Down to Sleep ...
73 psl.
... Turning One Down With the Plough in April . Wee , modest , crimson - tippèd flow'r , Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem ; To spare thee now is past my pow'r , Thou bonnie gem ! Alas ! it's ...
... Turning One Down With the Plough in April . Wee , modest , crimson - tippèd flow'r , Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem ; To spare thee now is past my pow'r , Thou bonnie gem ! Alas ! it's ...
101 psl.
... turned to sound : And now he issues thro ' , He scales a cloudy tower ; Faintly , like falling dew , His fast notes shower . * By courtesy of John Lane . FREDERICK TENNYSON . On the Wing On the Wing The Skylark Bird of the wilderness ...
... turned to sound : And now he issues thro ' , He scales a cloudy tower ; Faintly , like falling dew , His fast notes shower . * By courtesy of John Lane . FREDERICK TENNYSON . On the Wing On the Wing The Skylark Bird of the wilderness ...
138 psl.
... turned the lock ; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; The household sinks to deep repose , But still in sleep the farm - boy goes Singing , calling , — " Co ' , boss ! co ' , boss ! co ' ! co ' ! co ' ! " And oft the milkmaid , in her ...
... turned the lock ; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; The household sinks to deep repose , But still in sleep the farm - boy goes Singing , calling , — " Co ' , boss ! co ' , boss ! co ' ! co ' ! co ' ! " And oft the milkmaid , in her ...
172 psl.
... turned him round in act to go . The way is long , he cannot fly , His soiled wing has lost its power , And he winds adown the mountain high , For many a sore and weary hour . Through dreary beds of tangled fern , Through groves of ...
... turned him round in act to go . The way is long , he cannot fly , His soiled wing has lost its power , And he winds adown the mountain high , For many a sore and weary hour . Through dreary beds of tangled fern , Through groves of ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Banners are Waving bells bird blossoms blow blue bonnie breath bright Chanted Calendar clouds dark dear doth dream earth EDMUND SPENSER eyes fair fairy Fancy Songs flowers Garden of Girls Glenlogie gold golden grass Green Things Growing happy Hark hath hear heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONgfellow hill Inglenook JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON king lady Lady of Shalott land laugh leaves light look Lord LORD TENNYSON loud lullaby Mally's Merry Mood morn mountain never night o'er Old Glory PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY rain Reality Romance roar Romance and Reality round sail shining shore sing sleep snow Songs of Fancy soul sound Sports and Pastimes spring stars steed stream summer sweet thee thou voice wild WILLIAM WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods World and Old World Beautiful
Populiarios ištraukos
210 psl. - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene, Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes He...
98 psl. - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know,...
603 psl. - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
160 psl. - But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! A savage place ! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover...
161 psl. - The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated mid-way on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.
540 psl. - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
95 psl. - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody : — Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
548 psl. - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
617 psl. - custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. " The next, with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne ; Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
256 psl. - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.