The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, Dover Street, 1851 - 182 psl. |
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30 psl.
... stranger : aftertime , And that full voice which circles round the grave , Will rank you nobly , mingled up with me . What ! are the ladies of your land so tall ? ' ' We of the court ' said Cyril . From 30 THE PRINCESS ;
... stranger : aftertime , And that full voice which circles round the grave , Will rank you nobly , mingled up with me . What ! are the ladies of your land so tall ? ' ' We of the court ' said Cyril . From 30 THE PRINCESS ;
54 psl.
... round her dewy eyes The circled Iris of a night of tears ; ' And fly ' she cried , ' O fly , while yet you may ! My mother knows : ' and when I ask'd her ' how ' ' My fault ' she wept ' my fault ! and yet not mine ; Yet mine in part . O ...
... round her dewy eyes The circled Iris of a night of tears ; ' And fly ' she cried , ' O fly , while yet you may ! My mother knows : ' and when I ask'd her ' how ' ' My fault ' she wept ' my fault ! and yet not mine ; Yet mine in part . O ...
133 psl.
... round his helmet , tough , Strong , supple , sinew - corded , apt at arms ; But tougher , heavier , stronger , he that smote And threw him : last I spurr'd ; I felt my veins Stretch with fierce heat ; a moment hand to hand , And sword ...
... round his helmet , tough , Strong , supple , sinew - corded , apt at arms ; But tougher , heavier , stronger , he that smote And threw him : last I spurr'd ; I felt my veins Stretch with fierce heat ; a moment hand to hand , And sword ...
163 psl.
... round my wrist , and tears upon my hand : Then all for languor and self - pity ran Mine down my face , and with what life I had , And like a flower that cannot all unfold , So drench'd it is with tempest , to the sun , Yet , as it may ...
... round my wrist , and tears upon my hand : Then all for languor and self - pity ran Mine down my face , and with what life I had , And like a flower that cannot all unfold , So drench'd it is with tempest , to the sun , Yet , as it may ...
35 psl.
... round me wave , I take the grasses of the grave , And make them pipes whereon to blow . The traveller hears me now and then , And sometimes harshly will he speak ; ' This fellow would make weakness weak , And melt the waxen hearts of ...
... round me wave , I take the grasses of the grave , And make them pipes whereon to blow . The traveller hears me now and then , And sometimes harshly will he speak ; ' This fellow would make weakness weak , And melt the waxen hearts of ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms beat betwixt blood blow break breast breathe brows call'd cataract Celt child cried Cyril dark dash'd dead dear death deep dipt doubt DOVER STREET dream dropt dying earth EDWARD MOXON eyes face fair faith fall'n fancy father fear Florian flower flying grief half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven hills hour king Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa mind moon morning mother move Muses night noble o'er once peace Prince Princess Princess Ida rapt Ring rose round sang seem'd shadow shame sleep song sorrow soul spake speak spirit spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro touch'd trumpet truth turn'd unto vext voice wassail wild wild bells wind Winter's tale woman words
Populiarios ištraukos
1 psl. - I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
78 psl. - THE wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave ; Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul ? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams ? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
73 psl. - THE splendour 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 O hark, O hear!
76 psl. - Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain.
76 psl. - ... 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.
76 psl. - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
186 psl. - I trust I have not wasted breath: I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death; Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay.
76 psl. - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
69 psl. - That each, who seems a separate whole, Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet: Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside; And I shall know him when we meet...