Representative Poems of Living Poets: American and EnglishJeannette Leonard Gilder Cassell, 1886 - 683 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 86
ix psl.
... never can give more than a small volume of sound ; -if we are always doing this , we shall be doing what we can to destroy that native faculty of self - reliance and joyous inspiration , which makes him a poet . The mysterious ...
... never can give more than a small volume of sound ; -if we are always doing this , we shall be doing what we can to destroy that native faculty of self - reliance and joyous inspiration , which makes him a poet . The mysterious ...
xv psl.
... never can generate a poem . Which ought we to place foremost - the active , directing , creating impulse of im- agination , or the passive one of systematic scrutiny ? The suggestion is here made humbly , that if we are ever to ...
... never can generate a poem . Which ought we to place foremost - the active , directing , creating impulse of im- agination , or the passive one of systematic scrutiny ? The suggestion is here made humbly , that if we are ever to ...
10 psl.
... Never does summer - time or autumn call The same soft sadness back ; the birds may sing , Flowers fade , and ripe October's foliage fall , Yet not the same strange melancholy bring . It is the saddest season of them all , — The weeping ...
... Never does summer - time or autumn call The same soft sadness back ; the birds may sing , Flowers fade , and ripe October's foliage fall , Yet not the same strange melancholy bring . It is the saddest season of them all , — The weeping ...
22 psl.
... never did Chunda Kour Braid her hair at the tiring - glass . There came a steed from Toorkistan , Wah ! God made him to match the hawk ! Fast beside him the four grooms ran , To keep abreast of the Toorkman's walk . Black as the bear on ...
... never did Chunda Kour Braid her hair at the tiring - glass . There came a steed from Toorkistan , Wah ! God made him to match the hawk ! Fast beside him the four grooms ran , To keep abreast of the Toorkman's walk . Black as the bear on ...
27 psl.
... never a look , For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book ! Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the door . Come away , children , call no more ! Come away , come down , call no more ! Down , down , down ! Down to the depths of the sea ...
... never a look , For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book ! Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the door . Come away , children , call no more ! Come away , come down , call no more ! Down , down , down ! Down to the depths of the sea ...
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Representative Poems of Living Poets– American and English Jeannette Leonard Gilder Visos knygos peržiūra - 1886 |
Representative Poems of Living Poets– American and English Jeannette Leonard Gilder Visos knygos peržiūra - 1886 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
angels Arcady beauty beneath bird bloom blue brave breast breath bright brow CALIBAN UPON SETEBOS cast crown Christ Clive crimson night Dæmon dark dead dear death Dehu dream earth eyes face fair fear flowers gaze gleam glory God's gold golden gray grow half hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills holy Joseph's tomb kiss knew Lahore laugh life's light lilies and violets lips LITTLE MURIEL live look Mind Freaks moon morning neath never night Njörd o'er once pain pale poets pray rose round Runjeet sang shadow silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stand stars stood strong sweet tears tell tender thee things thou thought tree trembling Twas twixt voice wait wake wave wild arm wind wonder words
Populiarios ištraukos
421 psl. - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays: Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, grasping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
325 psl. - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main; The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming Lair.
421 psl. - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
28 psl. - And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden And the gleam of her golden hair. Come away, away children; Come children, come down! The hoarse wind blows coldly; Lights shine in the town.
25 psl. - Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way, this way. Call her once before you go. Call once yet. In a voice that she will know : "Margaret! Margaret!
423 psl. - Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in — There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'.
90 psl. - And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
610 psl. - And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side ; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, ' We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men ! And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die — does it matter when?
328 psl. - Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes...
326 psl. - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving...