Vers de SociétéH. Holt, 1875 - 401 psl. |
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4 psl.
... smile , Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought ' twas Venus from her isle , And wonder'd where she'd left her sparrows . She talk'd , -of politics or prayers , - Or Southey's prose , or Wordsworth's sonnets , — Of danglers ...
... smile , Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought ' twas Venus from her isle , And wonder'd where she'd left her sparrows . She talk'd , -of politics or prayers , - Or Southey's prose , or Wordsworth's sonnets , — Of danglers ...
15 psl.
... smile - like the sun in his glory On the buds he loves ever the best ; And oh ! from its ivory portal Like music bis soft speech must flow ! -- If he speak , smile , or walk like a mortal , My own Araminta , say " No ! " Don't listen to ...
... smile - like the sun in his glory On the buds he loves ever the best ; And oh ! from its ivory portal Like music bis soft speech must flow ! -- If he speak , smile , or walk like a mortal , My own Araminta , say " No ! " Don't listen to ...
17 psl.
... smile that should never have alter'd- Dear Clarence - it is not your own ; Your cravat is badly selected : Your coat don't become you at all ; And why is your hair so neglected ? You must have it curl'd for our Ball . I've often been ...
... smile that should never have alter'd- Dear Clarence - it is not your own ; Your cravat is badly selected : Your coat don't become you at all ; And why is your hair so neglected ? You must have it curl'd for our Ball . I've often been ...
25 psl.
... so black As many people make him . I think that Love is like a play , Where tears and smiles are blended , Or like a faithless April day , Whose shine with shower is ended : THE CHAUNT OF THE BRAZEN HEAD . Like Colnbrook pavement 25.
... so black As many people make him . I think that Love is like a play , Where tears and smiles are blended , Or like a faithless April day , Whose shine with shower is ended : THE CHAUNT OF THE BRAZEN HEAD . Like Colnbrook pavement 25.
26 psl.
... , One woman not a liar ! I think poor beggars court St. Giles , Rich beggars court St. Stephen ; And death looks down with nods and smiles , And makes the odds all even : THE CHAUNT OF THE BRAZEN HEAD . I think some 26.
... , One woman not a liar ! I think poor beggars court St. Giles , Rich beggars court St. Stephen ; And death looks down with nods and smiles , And makes the odds all even : THE CHAUNT OF THE BRAZEN HEAD . I think some 26.
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALFRED TENNYSON ANGORA CAT Araminta AUTUMN IDYL beauty beneath bird bliss blue bosom Bouillabaisse BRAZEN HEAD bright Burnham-beeches cane-bottom'd chair cheek Christmas in Town CLAUDE TILLIER COLERAINE dance dear Dorothy dreams fair To fill fill my glass flower FRANK friends GARDEN IDYL girl glove glow gone good-night hair hand happy hear heart HENRY LUTTRELL IRISH EYES kiss lady laugh LAWRENCE LETTICE WHITE light Lilian lips LITTLE GERTY look maid Miss morning MORTIMER COLLINS neighbor Nelly never o'er once PALL MALL perhaps pleasant pleasure poet poor pretty reason fair rhyme rose ROSE SONG round scarce sigh Sing heigh-ho smile soft song soul SPECTATOR AB EXTRA spends his Christmas sweet talk tears tell tender thee There's think's a reason THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY thou thought tree TU QUOQUE Twas vers de société vex'd wife wind youth
Populiarios ištraukos
75 psl. - I SAW him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said,
285 psl. - Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth, On thy lips, the smile of truth. Oh, that dew, like balm, shall steal Into wounds, that cannot heal, Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; And that smile, like sunshine, dart Into many a sunless heart, For a smile of God thou art.
71 psl. - Man wants but little here below." Little I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone (A very plain brown stone will do, That I may call my own — And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
255 psl. - A month or more hath she been dead, Yet cannot I by force be led To think upon the wormy bed And her together. A springy motion in her gait, A rising step, did indicate Of pride and joy no common rate That flush'd her spirit: I know not by what name beside I shall it call: if 'twas not pride, It was a joy to that allied She did inherit.
100 psl. - Ah me! how quick the days are flitting! I mind me of a time that's gone, When here I'd sit, .as now I'm sitting, In this same place — but not alone. A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me — There's no one now to share my cup.
72 psl. - ... call my own; — And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen ! I always thought cold victual nice; — My choice would be vanilla-ice.
9 psl. - Our love was like most other loves, — A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted; A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows, — and then we parted.
81 psl. - MY AUNT. MY aunt ! my dear unmarried aunt ! Long years have o'er her flown ; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her life, For life is but a span.
77 psl. - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh.
284 psl. - Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June.