Lyrical Ballads: Reprinted from the First Edition of 1798D. Nutt, 1891 - 227 psl. |
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73 psl.
... mountains many and many a song We two had sung , like little birds in May . When we began to tire of childish play We seemed still more and more to prize each other : We talked of marriage and our marriage day ; And I in truth did love ...
... mountains many and many a song We two had sung , like little birds in May . When we began to tire of childish play We seemed still more and more to prize each other : We talked of marriage and our marriage day ; And I in truth did love ...
75 psl.
... mountains - high before the howling blast . We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep , Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue , Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap , That we the ...
... mountains - high before the howling blast . We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep , Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue , Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap , That we the ...
82 psl.
... mountain , midnight theft to hatch ; To charm the surly house - dog's faithful bark , Or hang on tiptoe at the lifted latch ; The gloomy lantern , and the dim blue match , The black disguise , the warning whistle shrill , And ear still ...
... mountain , midnight theft to hatch ; To charm the surly house - dog's faithful bark , Or hang on tiptoe at the lifted latch ; The gloomy lantern , and the dim blue match , The black disguise , the warning whistle shrill , And ear still ...
95 psl.
... of joy to yield To the bare trees , and mountains bare , And grass in the green field . My Sister ! ( ' tis a wish of mine Lines written at a small distance from my House, and sent by my little Boy to the Person to whom they addressed.
... of joy to yield To the bare trees , and mountains bare , And grass in the green field . My Sister ! ( ' tis a wish of mine Lines written at a small distance from my House, and sent by my little Boy to the Person to whom they addressed.
118 psl.
... mountain's highest ridge , Where oft the stormy winter gale Cuts like a scythe , while through the clouds It sweeps from vale to vale ; Not five yards from the mountain - path , This thorn you on your left espy ; And to 118 LYRICAL BALLADS.
... mountain's highest ridge , Where oft the stormy winter gale Cuts like a scythe , while through the clouds It sweeps from vale to vale ; Not five yards from the mountain - path , This thorn you on your left espy ; And to 118 LYRICAL BALLADS.
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Lyrical Ballads– Reprinted from the First Edition of 1798 William Wordsworth,Samuel Taylor Coleridge Visos knygos peržiūra - 1890 |
Lyrical Ballads– Reprinted from the First Edition of 1798 William Wordsworth,Samuel Taylor Coleridge Visos knygos peržiūra - 1890 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Albatross Alfoxden Ancyent Marinere babe Basil Montagu Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze bright changes of text chatter child cold Coleridge dead dear door doth dreadful edition fair fear Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill of moss idiot boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist limbs Liswyn farm look Lyrical Ballads maid Martha Ray melancholy mind moon moonlight mov'd Nether Stowey never night Nightingale o'er oh misery old Susan pain pleasure poem pond pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray Quoth round sails Salisbury Plain Ship silent Simon Lee song soul spirit stanza stars stood strange Susan Gale sweet tale tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro TINTERN ABBEY tree turn'd Twas voice wedding-guest wherefore wild wind woman wood Wordsworth youth
Populiarios ištraukos
206 psl. - For I have learned To look on Nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
208 psl. - Nor perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay : For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes.
66 psl. - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
210 psl. - And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence...
202 psl. - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye ; But oft, in lonely rooms and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness sensations sweet, Felt in the blood and felt along the heart...
44 psl. - How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 'Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?
112 psl. - And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there.
ix psl. - In the one the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural ; and the excellence aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real.
xii psl. - Poems was to choose incidents and situations from common life, and to relate or describe them, throughout, as far as was possible in a selection of language really used by men, and, at the same time, to throw over them a certain colouring of imagination, whereby ordinary things should be presented to the mind in an unusual aspect...
110 psl. - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad : Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. 74 75 "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ? " " How many? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.