Playtime with the poets: a selection of the best English poetry for the use of children, by a lady1863 |
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xv psl.
... . Hemans Moultrie Sir W. Scott Campbell Mrs. Hemans • 348 350 • • 352 · 353 354 Lyly 354 . 355 356 Shakespeare . . 357 CXLIX . Helvellyn Sir W. Scott . 358 CLIX . Childe Harold's Good - night CLX . The CONTENTS . XV.
... . Hemans Moultrie Sir W. Scott Campbell Mrs. Hemans • 348 350 • • 352 · 353 354 Lyly 354 . 355 356 Shakespeare . . 357 CXLIX . Helvellyn Sir W. Scott . 358 CLIX . Childe Harold's Good - night CLX . The CONTENTS . XV.
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Playtime. CLIX . Childe Harold's Good - night CLX . The Vigil of Arms . PLAYTIME WITH THE POETS . I CASA BIANCA . (. CL . The Twa Corbies CLI . Enigma . CLII . The Fisherman CLII . The Twilight CLIV . The Water King CLV . The Minstrel ...
Playtime. CLIX . Childe Harold's Good - night CLX . The Vigil of Arms . PLAYTIME WITH THE POETS . I CASA BIANCA . (. CL . The Twa Corbies CLI . Enigma . CLII . The Fisherman CLII . The Twilight CLIV . The Water King CLV . The Minstrel ...
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... night ; And the battle knew no more his sword , Nor the foaming steed his might . He heard strange voices moaning In every wind that sighed ; From the searching stars of heaven he shrank . Humbly the conqueror died . DEATH THE LEVELLER ...
... night ; And the battle knew no more his sword , Nor the foaming steed his might . He heard strange voices moaning In every wind that sighed ; From the searching stars of heaven he shrank . Humbly the conqueror died . DEATH THE LEVELLER ...
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... side , - They filled one home with glee ; Their graves lie severed , far and wide , By mount , and stream , and sea . The same fond mother bent at night , O'er each 10 THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD . The Graves of a Household.
... side , - They filled one home with glee ; Their graves lie severed , far and wide , By mount , and stream , and sea . The same fond mother bent at night , O'er each 10 THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD . The Graves of a Household.
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Playtime. The same fond mother bent at night , O'er each fair sleeping brow : She had each folded flower in sight – Where are those dreamers now ? One , ' midst the forests of the West , By a dark stream is laid - The Indian knows his ...
Playtime. The same fond mother bent at night , O'er each fair sleeping brow : She had each folded flower in sight – Where are those dreamers now ? One , ' midst the forests of the West , By a dark stream is laid - The Indian knows his ...
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Playtime with the Poets– A Selection of the Best English Poetry for the Use ... Playtime Peržiūra negalima - 2016 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
arms banner beneath Binnorie blood blow brave breast breath breeze bride bright brow cheer Chevy Chase child cloud courser cried dark dead dear death deep dost doth Earl Douglas Earl Percy fair falchion father fear fell foam gallant galloped Gelert gleam gone grave green hand Hark hast hath head hear heard heart heaven HEMANS Henry of Navarre horn horned owl horse hound Inchcape Rock John Barleycorn king Kirconnell lady light Lochinvar looked Lord loud maid MARGUERITE OF FRANCE moon morn mother Netherby never night noble o'er pale prayer quoth roar Robin rode rose round sails shook shore shroud sing Sir Patrick Spens slain sleep smile song soul sound spear steed stood storm stream sweet sword tears thee thou Twas voice waves weep wild Wildgrave wind wings
Populiarios ištraukos
28 psl. - Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said; Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
177 psl. - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
145 psl. - The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
29 psl. - Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd. Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
153 psl. - Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
162 psl. - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
194 psl. - Then shook the hills with thunder riven. Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow, On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
184 psl. - The bride at the altar ; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges : Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set ! Pibroch...
190 psl. - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
151 psl. - Within the nether tip. One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye.