Sibylline Leaves: A Collection of Poems |
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57 psl.
Abandon'd of Heaven ! mad Avarice thy guide , At cowardly distance , yet kindling with pride- Mid thy herds and thy corn - fields secure thou hast stood , And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood !
Abandon'd of Heaven ! mad Avarice thy guide , At cowardly distance , yet kindling with pride- Mid thy herds and thy corn - fields secure thou hast stood , And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood !
68 psl.
Alas ! for ages ignorant of all It's ghastlier workings , ( famine or blue plague , Battle , or siege , or flight through wintry snows , ) We , this whole people , have been clamorous For war and bloodshed ; animating sports , The which ...
Alas ! for ages ignorant of all It's ghastlier workings , ( famine or blue plague , Battle , or siege , or flight through wintry snows , ) We , this whole people , have been clamorous For war and bloodshed ; animating sports , The which ...
85 psl.
Even so on Loyalty's Decoy - pond , each Pops up his head , as fir'd with British blood , Hears once again the Ministerial screech , And once more seeks the bottom's blackest mud ! 1794 . { Fire , Famine , and Slaughter . A WAR 85.
Even so on Loyalty's Decoy - pond , each Pops up his head , as fir'd with British blood , Hears once again the Ministerial screech , And once more seeks the bottom's blackest mud ! 1794 . { Fire , Famine , and Slaughter . A WAR 85.
87 psl.
A Collection of Poems Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Fire , Famine , and Slaughter . A WAR - ECLOGUE . WITH AN APOLOGETIC PREFACE . ME DOLOR INCANTUM , ME LUBRICA DUXERIT ETAS , ME.
A Collection of Poems Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Fire , Famine , and Slaughter . A WAR - ECLOGUE . WITH AN APOLOGETIC PREFACE . ME DOLOR INCANTUM , ME LUBRICA DUXERIT ETAS , ME.
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ancient arms Author beautiful beneath bird blessed blue breath breeze bright calm child close cloud dark dead dear Death deep dream Earth face fair FAMINE Father fear feelings gazed gentle green groan half hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill hope hour leaves light limbs living look loud Maid Mariner mind Moon morn Mother moved Nature never night o'er once pain Peace pleasure Poem poor present Price Rain rest rise rock rose round scarcely ship silent sing sleep soft song soon soul sound spirit stars stood strain strange stream sweet tale tears tell thee things thou thought truth twas voice wild wind wings wood youth
Populiarios ištraukos
38 psl. - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
37 psl. - Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row." And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. "O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit crossed his brow. "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say What manner of man art thou?
27 psl. - Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
10 psl. - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
22 psl. - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs : I was so light almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.
35 psl. - Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said "And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them. Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolfs young." "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look (The Pilot made reply) I am a-feared
23 psl. - The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot" from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide.
21 psl. - Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole ! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.
164 psl. - Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
30 psl. - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.