The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 2 tomasLongman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green & Longman, 1832 |
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Rezultatai 15 iš 39
12 psl.
... dear nook Unvisited , where not a broken bough Drooped with its withered leaves , ungracious sign Of devastation , but the hazels rose Tall and erect , with milk - white clusters hung , A virgin scene ! - A little while I stood ...
... dear nook Unvisited , where not a broken bough Drooped with its withered leaves , ungracious sign Of devastation , but the hazels rose Tall and erect , with milk - white clusters hung , A virgin scene ! - A little while I stood ...
16 psl.
... dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where Rivulets dance their wayward round , And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face . And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height ...
... dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where Rivulets dance their wayward round , And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face . And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height ...
29 psl.
... dear ? The silver moon with all her Vales , and Hills of mightiest fame , Doth she betray us when they're seen ? or are they but a name ? Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong STAR - GAZERS . 29 Star-Gazers.
... dear ? The silver moon with all her Vales , and Hills of mightiest fame , Doth she betray us when they're seen ? or are they but a name ? Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong STAR - GAZERS . 29 Star-Gazers.
51 psl.
... dear Shade she would have clung - ' tis vain : The hours are past too brief had they been years ; And him no mortal effort can detain : Swift , toward the realms that know not earthly day , He through the portal takes his silent way ...
... dear Shade she would have clung - ' tis vain : The hours are past too brief had they been years ; And him no mortal effort can detain : Swift , toward the realms that know not earthly day , He through the portal takes his silent way ...
62 psl.
... dear Child ? What wicked looks are those I see ? Alas ! alas ! that look so wild , It never , never came from me : If thou art mad , my pretty Lad , Then I must be for ever sad . " Oh ! smile on me , my little lamb ! For I thy own dear ...
... dear Child ? What wicked looks are those I see ? Alas ! alas ! that look so wild , It never , never came from me : If thou art mad , my pretty Lad , Then I must be for ever sad . " Oh ! smile on me , my little lamb ! For I thy own dear ...
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth With a Memoir : Seven ..., 2 tomas William Wordsworth Visos knygos peržiūra - 1878 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Adam Bruce beauty behold beneath BLACK COMB bold bower brave breath bright BROUGHAM CASTLE brow Bruges Busk CALAIS calm Castle cheer clouds Clovenford Cruachan Danube dark dear deep delight doth dread dwell earth fair faith Fancy fear feel flood flowers gaze gentle gleam grace GRASMERE grave green grove happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill honour hope hour Lake light living lonely look Lord Lord Clifford Martha Ray meek melancholy mighty mind moon mortal mountain murmur Nature ne'er never night o'er peace pensive Peter Bell plain pleasure poor river Swale Rob Roy rocks round Scotland shade sight silent SIMPLON PASS sleep soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spot stars stood stream strife sweet thee thine things thoughts Tower trees vale voice wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind woods Yarrow Youth
Populiarios ištraukos
13 psl. - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
257 psl. - Two Voices are there ; one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty...
165 psl. - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration...
101 psl. - Is lightened : that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on. Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
212 psl. - Cuckoo-bird Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
100 psl. - That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
211 psl. - Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
104 psl. - The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee...
166 psl. - Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
259 psl. - IT is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, ' with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish ; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old : We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake ; the...