PoemsPhillips, Sampson & Company, 1856 - 251 psl. |
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16 psl.
... feet The ground - pine curled its pretty wreath , Running over the club - moss burrs ; I inhaled the violet's breath ; Around me stood the oaks and firs ; Pine - cones and acorns lay on the ground ; Over me soared the eternal sky , Full ...
... feet The ground - pine curled its pretty wreath , Running over the club - moss burrs ; I inhaled the violet's breath ; Around me stood the oaks and firs ; Pine - cones and acorns lay on the ground ; Over me soared the eternal sky , Full ...
43 psl.
... feet may well delay . Set not thy foot on graves ; Nor seek to unwind the shroud Which charitable Time And Nature have allowed To wrap the errors of a sage sublime . Set not thy foot on graves : Care not to strip the dead Of his sad ...
... feet may well delay . Set not thy foot on graves ; Nor seek to unwind the shroud Which charitable Time And Nature have allowed To wrap the errors of a sage sublime . Set not thy foot on graves : Care not to strip the dead Of his sad ...
53 psl.
... Earth laughs in flowers , to see her boastful boys Earth - proud , proud of the earth which is not theirs ; Who steer the plough , but cannot steer their feet Clear of the grave . 20 They added ridge to valley , brook to pond 53.
... Earth laughs in flowers , to see her boastful boys Earth - proud , proud of the earth which is not theirs ; Who steer the plough , but cannot steer their feet Clear of the grave . 20 They added ridge to valley , brook to pond 53.
57 psl.
... Office , low and high ; To crowded halls , to court and street ; To frozen hearts and hasting feet ; To those who go , and those who come ; Good - bye , proud world ! I'm going home . I am going to my own hearth - stone , 57.
... Office , low and high ; To crowded halls , to court and street ; To frozen hearts and hasting feet ; To those who go , and those who come ; Good - bye , proud world ! I'm going home . I am going to my own hearth - stone , 57.
58 psl.
... feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God . O , when I am safe in my sylvan home , I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome ; And when I am stretched beneath the pines , Where the evening star so holy shines , I laugh ...
... feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God . O , when I am safe in my sylvan home , I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome ; And when I am stretched beneath the pines , Where the evening star so holy shines , I laugh ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
agrimony amulets astronomy bard beneath bird blessed blood boughs breeze Canst child churl cloud Cossack Dæmon dear deep delight divine doth draw earth eternal eyebeam Fakirs fall Fate feet flame flowers forest forest fall forever fortune genius glad glow gods grace Hafiz hast hath Hearken heaven hill Houris Jove juice land leaves light lore lover lyre maid melt mind morning mortal mountain Muse myrrh Nature Nature's nectar never o'er ODE TO BEAUTY pale Pentecost PERSIAN pine pine-tree plant Pleiads pulse race rhyme rill rose round Saadi scorn secret seek shadow shed shines sings snow song soul sphere Sphinx star strong sunbeam sweet tempest thee thine eye things thou thou shalt thought thousand throbbing thrush thy heart tree Twill unto Uriel wave wild wind wise wood
Populiarios ištraukos
18 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.
62 psl. - And brier-roses, dwelt among ; All beside was unknown waste, All was picture as he passed. Wiser far than human seer, Yellow-breeched philosopher ! Seeing only what is fair, Sipping only what is sweet, Thou dost mock at fate and care, Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. When the fierce...
250 psl. - BY the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.
61 psl. - Turns the sod to violets, Thou, in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dost displace With thy mellow, breezy bass. Hot midsummer's petted crone, Sweet to me thy drowsy tone Tells of countless sunny hours, Long days, and solid banks of flowers; Of gulfs of sweetness without bound In Indian wildernesses found; Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure.
15 psl. - Nor knew her beauty's best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; — The gay enchantment was undone, A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said, "I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth...
19 psl. - The word unto the prophet spoken Was writ on tables yet unbroken ; The word by seers or sibyls told, In groves of oak or fanes of gold, Still floats upon the morning wind, Still whispers to the willing mind. One accent of the Holy Ghost The heedless world hath never lost.
19 psl. - Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, As the best gem upon her zone, And Morning opes with haste her lids To gaze upon the Pyramids; O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, As on its friends, with kindred eye ; For out of Thought's interior sphere These wonders rose to upper air; And Nature gladly gave them place, Adopted them into her race, And granted them an equal date With Andes and with Ararat.
147 psl. - TO EVA. O FAIR and stately maid, whose eyes Were kindled in the upper skies At the same torch that lighted mine ; For so I must interpret still Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, A sympathy divine. Ah ! let me blameless gaze upon Features that seem at heart my own ; Nor fear those watchful sentinels, Who charm the more their glance forbids, Chaste-glowing, underneath their lids, With fire that draws while it repels.
117 psl. - ODE, INSCRIBED TO WH CIIANNINR. TnofeGH loath to grieve The evil time's sole patriot, I cannot leave My honied thought For the priest's cant, Or statesman's rant. If I refuse My study for their politique. Which at the best is trick, The angry Muse Puts confusion in my brain. But who is he that prates Of the culture of mankind, Of better arts and life ? Go, blindworm, go, Behold the famous States Harrying Mexico With rifle and with knife! Or who, with accent bolder, Dare praise the freedom-loving...
67 psl. - Caesar of his leafy Rome, There the poet is at home. He goes to the river-side, Not hook nor line hath he; He stands in the meadows wide, Nor gun nor scythe to see.