Lyrical Ballads,: With Other Poems. In Two Volumes, 1 tomasT.N. Longman and O. Rees, Paternoster-Row, 1800 |
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xxvi psl.
... tears " such as Angels weep , " but natural and human tears ; she can boast of no celestial Ichor that distinguishes her vital juices from those of prose ; the same human blood circulates through the veins of them both . If it be ...
... tears " such as Angels weep , " but natural and human tears ; she can boast of no celestial Ichor that distinguishes her vital juices from those of prose ; the same human blood circulates through the veins of them both . If it be ...
15 psl.
... broad high - way , I met ; Along the broad high - way he came , His cheeks with tears were wet . Sturdy he seemed , though he was sad ; And in his arms a lamb he had . He saw me , and he turned aside , As 15 The Last of the Flock -
... broad high - way , I met ; Along the broad high - way he came , His cheeks with tears were wet . Sturdy he seemed , though he was sad ; And in his arms a lamb he had . He saw me , and he turned aside , As 15 The Last of the Flock -
16 psl.
... tears away . I follow'd him , and said , " My friend " What ails you ? wherefore weep you so ? " " Shame on me , Sir ! this lusty lamb , He makes my tears to flow . To - day I fetched him from the rock ; He is the last of all my flock ...
... tears away . I follow'd him , and said , " My friend " What ails you ? wherefore weep you so ? " " Shame on me , Sir ! this lusty lamb , He makes my tears to flow . To - day I fetched him from the rock ; He is the last of all my flock ...
23 psl.
... Till his eye streamed with tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know , that 23.
... Till his eye streamed with tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know , that 23.
70 psl.
... tears that fell in showers , Glimmer'd our dear - loved home , alas ! no longer ours ! * Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to different Fishermen , in parcels marked out by imaginary lines drawn from rock to rock ...
... tears that fell in showers , Glimmer'd our dear - loved home , alas ! no longer ours ! * Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to different Fishermen , in parcels marked out by imaginary lines drawn from rock to rock ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Lyrical Ballads,– With Other Poems. In Two Volumes, 1 tomas William Wordsworth Visos knygos peržiūra - 1800 |
Lyrical Ballads,– With Other Poems. In Two Volumes, 1 tomas William Wordsworth Visos knygos peržiūra - 1800 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Albatross ANCIENT MARINER babe beauty Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze bright chatter child composition dead dear door dreadful fair father fear feelings friends Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart Hermit high crag hill of moss hope idiot boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist limbs Liswyn farm look look'd Martha Ray metre mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd nature never night numbers o'er oh misery old Susan owlets pain passion pleasure Poems Poet poetic diction Poetry pond pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray prose Quoth Reader sails Ship silent SIMON LEE song soul spirit stanza stars Stephen Hill stood Susan Gale sweet tale tautology tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro tion Twas verse voice wedding-guest weep wherefore wild wind wood words Young Harry
Populiarios ištraukos
198 psl. - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay ! Farewell, farewell!
172 psl. - A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
208 psl. - My dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear dear Sister! and this prayer I make Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lend From joy to joy...
209 psl. - Into a sober pleasure ; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies...
204 psl. - 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. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro...
2 psl. - Nor less I deem that there are powers Which of themselves our minds impress ; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
55 psl. - Her eyes were fair, and very fair : Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they ? I pray you tell.
189 psl. - The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less That stands above the rock: The moonlight...
4 psl. - The sun above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow, Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife, Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music; on my life There's more of wisdom in it. And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
141 psl. - And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade— There came and look'd him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!