The World's Best Poetry: Of fancy, of sentiment; [introductory essay] The place of poetry in life, by C.F. RichardsonJ.D. Morris, 1904 |
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xiii psl.
... beneath the magisterial pinnacle of the Palazzo Vecchio , beholds the unrivalled proportions of Brunelleschi's dome , marks the serious yet cheerful unity of Giotto's tower , studies the stories on the bronze gates of the Baptistery ...
... beneath the magisterial pinnacle of the Palazzo Vecchio , beholds the unrivalled proportions of Brunelleschi's dome , marks the serious yet cheerful unity of Giotto's tower , studies the stories on the bronze gates of the Baptistery ...
4 psl.
... beneath salt water , Do never blind their eyes ; methinks it is a matter An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater ! Hallo , my fancy , whither wilt thou go ? Fain would I be resolved How things are done ; 4 POEMS OF FANCY .
... beneath salt water , Do never blind their eyes ; methinks it is a matter An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater ! Hallo , my fancy , whither wilt thou go ? Fain would I be resolved How things are done ; 4 POEMS OF FANCY .
8 psl.
... deemed the nurse of Jove ; Each fabled stream , beneath its covert grove , Had idly murmured to the idle air ; The shaggy wolf had kept his horrid lair In Delphi's cell , and old Trophonius ' cave , 8 POEMS OF FANCY .
... deemed the nurse of Jove ; Each fabled stream , beneath its covert grove , Had idly murmured to the idle air ; The shaggy wolf had kept his horrid lair In Delphi's cell , and old Trophonius ' cave , 8 POEMS OF FANCY .
27 psl.
... beneath her lay , And that land had glens and mountains gray ; And that land had valleys and hoary piles , And marlèd seas , and a thousand isles ; Its fields were speckled , its forests green , And its lakes were all of the dazzling ...
... beneath her lay , And that land had glens and mountains gray ; And that land had valleys and hoary piles , And marlèd seas , and a thousand isles ; Its fields were speckled , its forests green , And its lakes were all of the dazzling ...
39 psl.
... Beneath the tread of the centipede ; Or bound in a cobweb - dungeon dim , Your jailer a spider , huge and grim , Amid the carrion bodies to lie Of the worm , and the bug , and the murdered fly : These it had been your lot to bear , Had ...
... Beneath the tread of the centipede ; Or bound in a cobweb - dungeon dim , Your jailer a spider , huge and grim , Amid the carrion bodies to lie Of the worm , and the bug , and the murdered fly : These it had been your lot to bear , Had ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
beauty beneath bird blow blue breast breath breeze bright Camelot Cleon clouds cried dark dead dear death deep door doth dreams earth EDGAR ALLAN POE EDMUND SPENSER eyes fair fairy fancy fear flower frae FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER gleam golden gray green hair hand Hark hast hath hear heard heart heaven hour JOAQUIN MILLER Judas Iscariot Kilmeny lady of Shalott land laugh light live looked Lord loud MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM mind moon Moonlight Song mortal murmured never Nevermore night o'er once passion PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE poet Rhocus river rose round SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shadows shore sigh silence sing sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul of Judas sound spirit stars stood stream sweet tears Tell thee things thought toil Translation tree Ulalume voice wave weary wild wind wings
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213 psl. - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
130 psl. - And now the Storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
139 psl. - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
248 psl. - But, hail! thou Goddess sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended.
141 psl. - But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
335 psl. - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
202 psl. - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
367 psl. - TWAS at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne ; His valiant peers...
154 psl. - Not the least obeisance made he ; not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into Sottg? of smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou...
139 psl. - Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute.