The Oxford Book of Victorian VerseArthur Quiller-Couch Clarendon Press, 1913 - 1023 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 83
4 psl.
... to the last . I The Maid's Lament LOVED him not ; and yet now he is gone , I feel I am alone . I check'd him while he spoke ; yet , could he speak , Alas ! I would not check . For reasons not to love him once I sought , WALTER SAVAGE ...
... to the last . I The Maid's Lament LOVED him not ; and yet now he is gone , I feel I am alone . I check'd him while he spoke ; yet , could he speak , Alas ! I would not check . For reasons not to love him once I sought , WALTER SAVAGE ...
20 psl.
... sleep . He watch'd till knowledge came Upon his soul like flame , Not of those magic fires at random caught : But true prophetic light Flash'd o'er him , high and bright , 1 And can he choose but fear , Who feels his JOHN KEBLE.
... sleep . He watch'd till knowledge came Upon his soul like flame , Not of those magic fires at random caught : But true prophetic light Flash'd o'er him , high and bright , 1 And can he choose but fear , Who feels his JOHN KEBLE.
21 psl.
Arthur Quiller-Couch. And can he choose but fear , Who feels his God so near , That when he fain would curse , his powerless tongue In blessing only moves ? — Alas ! the world he loves Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath ...
Arthur Quiller-Couch. And can he choose but fear , Who feels his God so near , That when he fain would curse , his powerless tongue In blessing only moves ? — Alas ! the world he loves Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath ...
39 psl.
... the silence with a kiss , Long listening for the signal of a sigh ; And the sweet Nun , diffused in voiceless prayer , Feel her own soul through all the brooding air . 1798-1845 49 . M THOMAS HOOD Ode to the Moon 39 HARTLEY COLERIDGE.
... the silence with a kiss , Long listening for the signal of a sigh ; And the sweet Nun , diffused in voiceless prayer , Feel her own soul through all the brooding air . 1798-1845 49 . M THOMAS HOOD Ode to the Moon 39 HARTLEY COLERIDGE.
52 psl.
... feel as I used to feel , Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal ! ' O , but for one short hour ! A respite however brief ! No blessed leisure for Love or Hope , But only time for Grief ! A little weeping would ...
... feel as I used to feel , Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal ! ' O , but for one short hour ! A respite however brief ! No blessed leisure for Love or Hope , But only time for Grief ! A little weeping would ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Aghadoe Amy Levy Annabel Lee beauty bel ami beneath bird blow blue Bosphorus Bouillabaisse breast breath bright Camelot cold dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fear feet flame Flannan Isle flowers glory gold golden gone grass green grey hair hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour Judas Iscariot Karaman kiss Lady of Shalott land leaves light lips live look look'd Lord Luthany MELEAGER Moira O'Neill moon morning neath never night o'er once pale pass'd rose round sang seem'd shadows shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow 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
Populiarios ištraukos
105 psl. - If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame. They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
207 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.
51 psl. - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
328 psl. - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
174 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...
175 psl. - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Anabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
330 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.
286 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.
370 psl. - The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. 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.
232 psl. - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.