A Study of the Sea in the Greater Victorian PoetsUniversity of Wisconsin--Madison, 1898 - 428 psl. |
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19 psl.
... The tide flows down , the wave again Is vocal in its wooded walls ; My deeper anguish also falls , And I can speak a little then . " In Crossing the Bar the tide is " too full for sound or foam " in Audley Court we have the faint ...
... The tide flows down , the wave again Is vocal in its wooded walls ; My deeper anguish also falls , And I can speak a little then . " In Crossing the Bar the tide is " too full for sound or foam " in Audley Court we have the faint ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Acrisius Arnold Ballad beauty billows blue boat breath Bride's Prelude bright Browning calm Clough color dark dawn dead death deep sea delight described Doom of King Dover Beach English Enoch Arden exquisite feeling Fifine figure foam frequent Grace Darling gray green heart Ibid Iseult Jason John William Inchbold King Acrisius Kipling land Les Casquets light lines Loch Torridon Locrine lover Lover's Tale Memoriam Merman metaphor moan moonlit Morris murmur o'er ocean Ogier the Dane Paracelsus passage perhaps poem poet poet's poetry rapture reference ripple roar rock Rossetti sails salt sand scription sea's voice seems ship shore sigh Sigurd soft sometimes song soul sound spirit spray stanza Stopford Brooke stormy strong sweet Swimmer's Dream Swin Swinburne Swinburne's Tennyson Thalassius things thought tide trail Tristram and Iseult Tristram of Lyonesse verse voyage waters waves White Ship wild wind word yellow
Populiarios ištraukos
71 psl. - Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.
95 psl. - Man's measured path is all gone o'er: Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh, Man clomb until he touched the truth; and I, Even I, am he whom it was destined for." How should this be? Art thou then so much more Than they who sowed, that thou shouldst reap thereby? Nay, come up hither. From this wave-washed mound Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me; Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown'd. Miles and miles distant though the last line be, And though thy soul sail leagues and...
49 psl. - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
14 psl. - There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go. But in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream, and hold it true ; For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, I cannot think the thing farewell.
17 psl. - Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave, Heard in dead night along that tableshore, Drops flat, and after the great waters break Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves, Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, From less and less to nothing...
32 psl. - PARTING AT MORNING ROUND the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me.
79 psl. - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
74 psl. - Unaffrighted by the silence round them, Undistracted by the sights they see, These demand not that the things without them Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 'And with joy the stars perform their shining, And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll; For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting All the fever of some differing soul. ' Bounded by themselves, and unregardful In what state God's other works may be, In their own tasks all their powers pouring, These attain the mighty life you see.
168 psl. - Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass, And the wildest tales are true, And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, And life runs large on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new.
169 psl. - Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass, And the drum of the racing screw, As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail the trail that is always new?