The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse, 7 tomasArthur Quiller-Couch Clarendon Press, 1913 - 1023 psl. |
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11 psl.
... song Warbling with unripe throat : Thro ' the deep wood where spreads the sylvan oak I follow thee , and see thy hands unfold The love - sick primrose pale And moist - eyed violet : While in the central grove , at thy soft voice , The ...
... song Warbling with unripe throat : Thro ' the deep wood where spreads the sylvan oak I follow thee , and see thy hands unfold The love - sick primrose pale And moist - eyed violet : While in the central grove , at thy soft voice , The ...
22 psl.
... end was well . Infants have naught to weep for ere they die , All prayers are needless , beads they need not tell ; White flowers their mourners are , Nature their passing bell . 33 . Lo Song OVE lives beyond the tomb And 22 JOHN KEBLE.
... end was well . Infants have naught to weep for ere they die , All prayers are needless , beads they need not tell ; White flowers their mourners are , Nature their passing bell . 33 . Lo Song OVE lives beyond the tomb And 22 JOHN KEBLE.
29 psl.
Arthur Quiller-Couch. 38 . Song T is not Beauty I demand , A crystal brow , the moon's despair , Nor the snow's daughter , a white hand , Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair . Tell me not of your starry eyes , Your lips that seem on roses ...
Arthur Quiller-Couch. 38 . Song T is not Beauty I demand , A crystal brow , the moon's despair , Nor the snow's daughter , a white hand , Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair . Tell me not of your starry eyes , Your lips that seem on roses ...
30 psl.
... - born again ! The mountainless green wilds among , Here ends she her unechoing song ! With amber tears and odorous sighs Mourn'd by the desert where she dies ! Laid like the young fawn mossily In sun - green 30 GEORGE DARLEY.
... - born again ! The mountainless green wilds among , Here ends she her unechoing song ! With amber tears and odorous sighs Mourn'd by the desert where she dies ! Laid like the young fawn mossily In sun - green 30 GEORGE DARLEY.
36 psl.
... Song WEET in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers , Lulled by the faint breezes sighing through her hair ; Sleeps she and hears not the melancholy numbers Breathed to my sad lute ' mid the lonely air . Down from the high cliffs ...
... Song WEET in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers , Lulled by the faint breezes sighing through her hair ; Sleeps she and hears not the melancholy numbers Breathed to my sad lute ' mid the lonely air . Down from the high cliffs ...
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Aghadoe Amy Levy Annabel Lee ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH beauty bel ami beneath bird blow blue Bosphorus Bouillabaisse breast breath bright Camelot dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fear feet flame flowers glory gold golden gone grass green grey hair hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour Judas Iscariot Karaman kiss Lady Lady of Shalott land leaves light lips live look look'd Lord Luthany MELEAGER Moira O'Neill moon morn neath never night o'er pale pass'd ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON rose round sang shadow shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound Spring stag stars stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro Tirawley tree turn'd voice vrom waves weep wild wind wings wood young youth
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204 psl. - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
327 psl. - His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps ; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps : His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in...
737 psl. - REQUIEM UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be ; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
171 psl. - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. / was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love I and my ANNABEL LEE .With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea...
47 psl. - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour, Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
283 psl. - Fear death? to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go...
418 psl. - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather...
327 psl. - MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on.
283 psl. - I was ever a fighter, so one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past.
367 psl. - The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.