Sibylline Leaves: A Collection of Poems |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 15 iš 53
viii psl.
Right glad was the raven , and off he went fleet , And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet , And he thank'd him again and again for this treat : They had taken his all , and revenge was sweet ! We must not think so ; but forget and ...
Right glad was the raven , and off he went fleet , And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet , And he thank'd him again and again for this treat : They had taken his all , and revenge was sweet ! We must not think so ; but forget and ...
xii psl.
2 : punctuate thus , reading Sound for sounds ; And one low piping Sound more sweet than all211 , 1. 10 : for fair day r . Fair - day . 1.11 : for sweet r . wild . 212 , 1. 2 : for dead r . deep . 1. 3 : for Fill'd r . Fill . 1.
2 : punctuate thus , reading Sound for sounds ; And one low piping Sound more sweet than all211 , 1. 10 : for fair day r . Fair - day . 1.11 : for sweet r . wild . 212 , 1. 2 : for dead r . deep . 1. 3 : for Fill'd r . Fill . 1.
8 psl.
And the good south wind still blew behind , But no sweet bird did follow , Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners ' hollo ! His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner , for killing the bird of good luck .
And the good south wind still blew behind , But no sweet bird did follow , Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners ' hollo ! His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner , for killing the bird of good luck .
24 psl.
Twas not those souls that fled in pain , Which to their corses came again , But a troop of spirits blest : For when it dawned they dropped their of the guardian saint . arms , And clustered round the mast ; Sweet sounds rose slowly ...
Twas not those souls that fled in pain , Which to their corses came again , But a troop of spirits blest : For when it dawned they dropped their of the guardian saint . arms , And clustered round the mast ; Sweet sounds rose slowly ...
34 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 eveHe hath a cushion plump- : It is the moss that wholly brides The rotted old oak - stump .
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 eveHe hath a cushion plump- : It is the moss that wholly brides The rotted old oak - stump .
Ką žmonės sako - Rašyti recenziją
Neradome recenzijų įprastose vietose.
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Sibylline Leaves A Collection of Poems (Classic Reprint) Samuel Taylor Coleridge Peržiūra negalima - 2016 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ancient arms Author babe 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.