Collected PoemsK. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Company, Limited, 1913 - 678 psl. |
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xiv psl.
... Fancy from Fontenelle ⚫ Don Quixote A Broken Sword * The Poet's Seat 284 286 287 · · 289 291 · 292 293 . 295 The Lost Elixir · 298 MEMORIAL VERSES : - A Dialogue ( Alexander Pope ) A Familiar Epistle ( William Hogarth ) ...
... Fancy from Fontenelle ⚫ Don Quixote A Broken Sword * The Poet's Seat 284 286 287 · · 289 291 · 292 293 . 295 The Lost Elixir · 298 MEMORIAL VERSES : - A Dialogue ( Alexander Pope ) A Familiar Epistle ( William Hogarth ) ...
45 psl.
... fancy could undo her , A little while , Marquise , Pass on your way . Be the sky silent , be the sea serene ; A pleasant passage à Sainte Guillotine ! As for Rosina , - for the quiet sleeper , Whether stone hides her , or the happy ...
... fancy could undo her , A little while , Marquise , Pass on your way . Be the sky silent , be the sea serene ; A pleasant passage à Sainte Guillotine ! As for Rosina , - for the quiet sleeper , Whether stone hides her , or the happy ...
87 psl.
... fancy , love her , - Cynics to boot . I know the children run , Seeing her come , for naught that I discover , Save that she brings the summer and the sun . LAWRENCE . Mine is a Lady , beautiful and queenly , Crowned with a sweet ...
... fancy , love her , - Cynics to boot . I know the children run , Seeing her come , for naught that I discover , Save that she brings the summer and the sun . LAWRENCE . Mine is a Lady , beautiful and queenly , Crowned with a sweet ...
116 psl.
... fancy , incomplete , Yet not indifferently planned ; Note specially the gray old Guard , Who tears his tattered coat to wrap A closer bandage round the scarred And frozen comrade in his lap ; But , as regards the present war , Now ...
... fancy , incomplete , Yet not indifferently planned ; Note specially the gray old Guard , Who tears his tattered coat to wrap A closer bandage round the scarred And frozen comrade in his lap ; But , as regards the present war , Now ...
213 psl.
... fancy a face in the frame Of the window , some high - headed damsel or dame , Be - patched and be - powdered , just set by the stair , While they raise up the lid of that old Sedan chair ! Can't you fancy Sir Plume , as beside her he ...
... fancy a face in the frame Of the window , some high - headed damsel or dame , Be - patched and be - powdered , just set by the stair , While they raise up the lid of that old Sedan chair ! Can't you fancy Sir Plume , as beside her he ...
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Ann Radcliffe Autonoë BALLAD Bard BEAU BEAU BROCADE beauty beneath bird blue Caliph CARDENIO cheek Child comes Cupid's Alley Cyclops dance dead dear DENISE Dolly doubt dreams E'en eyes face fair fancy fate flowers garden grace green grew hair hand head heard heart hope jelick JOLICŒUR knew ladies of St LADY laughing light lips little Blue-Ribbons look Love Love's LYRE maid Megalopolis MOLIÈRE Molly Trefusis Monsieur morning Muse naught o'er old Sedan chair OMAR KHAYYÁM once pain pass Perchance Phyllida play POET poor POPE praise PROCRIS pure song rhyme Rose round Savignac scarce seemed sing smile song soul Squire stirred strange surely sweet tale tears thee Theocritus There's thing thou thought thrush to-day turned Twas twixt verse wait watch weary wind-flowers words yore young youth
Populiarios ištraukos
488 psl. - Picture above, if you can, Eyes that could melt as the dew, This was the Pompadour's fan! See how they rise at the sight, Thronging the...
316 psl. - Blest! but more blest, whom Summer's heat, Whom Spring's impulsive stir and beat, Have taught no feverish lure; Whose Muse, benignant and serene, Still keeps his Autumn chaplet green Because his verse is pure! Lie calm, O white and laureate head! Lie calm, O Dead, that art not dead, Since from the voiceless grave, Thy voice shall speak to old and young While song yet speaks an English tongue By Charles' or Thamis
95 psl. - If I were you! Frank. If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer Whiff of the best, the mildest honey-dew, I would not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer, If I were you! Nellie. If I were you, I would not, sir, be bitter, Even to write the "Cynical Review"! Frank. No, I should doubtless find flirtation fitter, If I were you! Nellie.
217 psl. - Cure down the street Comes with his kind old face With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair, And his green umbrella-case. You may see him pass by the little "Grande Place," And the tiny
482 psl. - Like a bud ere it blows, You just peeped at the sky, When I saw you last, Rose! Now your petals unclose, Now your May-time is nigh; How fast the time goes! And a life, how it grows! You were scarcely so shy, When I saw you last, Rose!
94 psl. - TFI were you, when ladies at the play, sir, Beckon and nod, a melodrama through, I would not turn abstractedly away, sir, If I were you ! FRANK. If I were you, when persons I affected, Wait for three hours to take me down to Kew, I would, at least, pretend I recollected, If I were you ! NELLIE. If I were you, when ladies are so lavish, Sir, as to keep me every waltz but two, I would not dance with odious Miss M'Tavish If I were you I FRANK. If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer Whiff of the best,...
486 psl. - Damosels Dames, be piteous ! " (But the dames rode fast by the roadway trees.) " Hear us, O Knights magnanimous ! " (But the knights pricked on in their panoplies.) Nothing they gat or of hope or ease, But only to beat on the breast and say : " Life we drank to the dregs and lees ; Give us ah ! give us but Yesterday !
161 psl. - A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips ; Sing red, red roses, And my Love's lips.
484 psl. - SINGER of the field and fold, THEOCRITUS ! Pan's pipe was thine, Thine was the happier Age of Gold. For thee the scent of new-turned mould, The bee-hives, and the murmuring pine, O Singer of the field and fold ! Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old, The beechen bowl made glad with wine Thine was the happier Age of Gold.
569 psl. - Fame is a food that dead men eat, I have no stomach for such meat. In little light and narrow room, They eat it in the silent tomb, With no kind voice of comrade near To bid the banquet be of cheer.