Little Classics, 14 tomasRossiter Johnson Houghton, Mifflin, 1875 |
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14 psl.
... winds are laid with sound . But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels , And the nations do but murmur , snarling at each other's heels . page . Can I but relive in sadness ? I will turn that earlier Hide me from my ...
... winds are laid with sound . But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels , And the nations do but murmur , snarling at each other's heels . page . Can I but relive in sadness ? I will turn that earlier Hide me from my ...
16 psl.
... wind rush- ing warm , With the standards of the peoples plunging through the thunder - storm ; Till the war - drum throbbed no longer , and the battle - flags were furled In the Parliament of man , the Federation of the world . There ...
... wind rush- ing warm , With the standards of the peoples plunging through the thunder - storm ; Till the war - drum throbbed no longer , and the battle - flags were furled In the Parliament of man , the Federation of the world . There ...
20 psl.
... it , in its breast a thunder- bolt . Let it fall on Locksley Hall , with rain or hail , or fire or snow ; For the mighty wind arises , roaring seaward , and I go . BY ROBERT BULWER LYTTON . LITTLE longer in the light 20 LITTLE CLASSICS .
... it , in its breast a thunder- bolt . Let it fall on Locksley Hall , with rain or hail , or fire or snow ; For the mighty wind arises , roaring seaward , and I go . BY ROBERT BULWER LYTTON . LITTLE longer in the light 20 LITTLE CLASSICS .
24 psl.
... wind . Ah me ! old times , they cling , they cling ! And oft by yonder green old gate The field shows through , in morns of spring , an eager boy , I paused elate With all sweet fancies loosed from school . And oft , you know , when ...
... wind . Ah me ! old times , they cling , they cling ! And oft by yonder green old gate The field shows through , in morns of spring , an eager boy , I paused elate With all sweet fancies loosed from school . And oft , you know , when ...
30 psl.
... wind and showers beat not too sharply the shorn lamb : His wisdom is more wise than ours : he knew my nature , - what I am : IIe tempers smiles with tears : both good , to bear in time the Christian mood . O yet , - - in scorn of mean ...
... wind and showers beat not too sharply the shorn lamb : His wisdom is more wise than ours : he knew my nature , - what I am : IIe tempers smiles with tears : both good , to bear in time the Christian mood . O yet , - - in scorn of mean ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright cowslips crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy forever Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JOHN MILTON kiss land let us gang life's light lips live Lochiel Locksley Hall long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn Neath nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain pale flower passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shadows rise shining shore sigh silent sing smile song soul sound spring star sweet tears thee thine things thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave weep Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wind's youth are long
Populiarios ištraukos
15 psl. - Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new : That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do...
60 psl. - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral ; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
122 psl. - The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity ; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew ; — The conscious stone to beauty grew.
69 psl. - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
97 psl. - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
61 psl. - Thou little child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life...
224 psl. - Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
98 psl. - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
128 psl. - Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in His hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God; see all, nor be afraid!
113 psl. - Last came, and last did go The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: 'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold!