Old-world Idylls: And Other VersesKegan Paul, Trench & Company, 1885 - 245 psl. |
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xiii psl.
... Dear John ( the letter ran ) , it can't , can't be , For Father ' s gone to Chorley Fair with Sam , And Mother ' s storing Apples , -Prue and Me Up to our Elbows making Damson Jam : But we shall meet before a Week is gone , - " Tis a ...
... Dear John ( the letter ran ) , it can't , can't be , For Father ' s gone to Chorley Fair with Sam , And Mother ' s storing Apples , -Prue and Me Up to our Elbows making Damson Jam : But we shall meet before a Week is gone , - " Tis a ...
xiii psl.
... Dear , I don't think that I thought of much Before we knew each other , I and you ; And now , why , John , your least , least Finger - touch , Gives me enough to think a Summer through . See , for I send you Something ! There , ' tis ...
... Dear , I don't think that I thought of much Before we knew each other , I and you ; And now , why , John , your least , least Finger - touch , Gives me enough to think a Summer through . See , for I send you Something ! There , ' tis ...
17 psl.
... dear old dame , In truth , was not so much to blame ; The excellent divine I name Is scarcely stirring ; Her plain - song piety preferred Pure life to precept . If she erred , She knew her faults . Her softest word Was for the erring ...
... dear old dame , In truth , was not so much to blame ; The excellent divine I name Is scarcely stirring ; Her plain - song piety preferred Pure life to precept . If she erred , She knew her faults . Her softest word Was for the erring ...
18 psl.
... Dear Madam Placid ! Others knew Your worth as well as he , and threw Their flowers upon your coffin too , I take for granted . Their loves are lost ; but still we see Your kind and gracious memory Bloom yearly with the almond tree The ...
... Dear Madam Placid ! Others knew Your worth as well as he , and threw Their flowers upon your coffin too , I take for granted . Their loves are lost ; but still we see Your kind and gracious memory Bloom yearly with the almond tree The ...
86 psl.
... Dear Muse of Mayfair , pardon , If more restraint had not been taught In this neglected garden ; For these your code was all too stiff , So , seeing none dissented , Their unfeigned faces met as if Manners were not invented . Then on ...
... Dear Muse of Mayfair , pardon , If more restraint had not been taught In this neglected garden ; For these your code was all too stiff , So , seeing none dissented , Their unfeigned faces met as if Manners were not invented . Then on ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Autonoë BABETTE BALLAD OF BEAU BARON BEAU BROCADE beauty Belle Marquise BEN JONSON bird blue Boucher bright eyes brow Caliph CHALCEDONY CIRCE comes COUNTESS Cupid's Alley dance dead dear DENISE DOLLY Dorothy dream E'en eyes face fair flowers FRANÇOIS BOUCHER FRANK garden grace gray grew heart Here's a present IDYLL intended an Ode king more terrible kissed me to-day knew L'ÉTOILE last year's nest laughing LAWRENCE London stones look Love Love's M'sieu Madam Maid Monsieur Muse myrtle twine Naught but myrtle NINETTE NINON o'er once PLATO POET present for Rose PRINCESS PROCRIS rhyme RONDEAU saw you last School of Coquettes sigh sing smile Stand and Deliver stirred sweet terrible than Death THEOCRITUS There's a tear thing thou thought thrush TRIOLETS turned Twas twixt vacant dwelling VIEUXBOIS VILLANELLE watch weary wind-flower yore
Populiarios ištraukos
205 psl. - All passes. ART alone Enduring stays to us ; The Bust out-lasts the throne, The Coin, Tiberius ; Even the gods must go ; Only the lofty Rhyme Not countless years o'erthrow, Not long array of time.
237 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose ; But whenever a scent from the whitethorn blows, And the jasmine-stars...
212 psl. - Love comes back to his vacant dwelling The old, old Love that we knew of yore ! We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling. " He makes as though in our arms repelling He fain would lie, as he lay before ; Love comes back to his vacant dwelling...
204 psl. - When the hard means rebel, Fairer the work out-grows, More potent far the spell. O POET, then, forbear The loosely-sandalled verse, Choose rather thou to wear The buskin strait and terse; Leave to the tyro's hand The limp and shapeless style; See that thy form demand The labor of the file.
99 psl. - If I were you ! FRANK. If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer Whiff of the best, the mildest ' honey-dew,' I would not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer, If I were you ! NELLIE. If I were you, I would not, sir, be bitter, Even to write the ' Cynical Review ; ' FRANK. No, I should doubtless find flirtation fitter, If I were you ! NELLIE.
17 psl. - WHITEFIELD preached to the colliers grim, Bishops in lawn sleeves preached at him ; WALPOLE talked of " a man and his price " ; Nobody's virtue was over-nice : Those, in fine, were the brave days when Coaches were stopped by . . Highwaymen ! And of all the knights of the gentle trade Nobody bolder than
225 psl. - SINGER of the field and fold, THEOCRITUS ! Pan's pipe was thine, Thine was the happier Age of Gold. For thee the scent of new-turned mould, The bee-hives, and the murmuring pine, O Singer of the field and fold,! Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old, The beechen bowl made glad with wine . . Thine was the happier Age of Gold.
xiii psl. - ... wears a brown old Brunswick coat, With silver buttons, round his throat, A soft cravat ; in all you note An elder fashion, A strangeness, which, to us who shine In shapely hats, whose coats combine All harmonies of hue and line, Inspires compassion. He lived so long ago, you see ! Men were untravelled then, but we, Like Ariel, post o'er land and sea With careless parting ; He found it quite enough for him To smoke his pipe in "garden trim," And watch, about the fish tank's brim,...
175 psl. - How sweet with you on some green sod To wreathe the rustic garden-god ; How sweet beneath the chestnut's shade With you to weave a basket-braid ; To watch across the stricken chords Your rosy-twinkling fingers flee ; To woo you in soft woodland words, With woodland pipe, Autonoe...
xiii psl. - Tis a long Lane that has no turning,' John ! " Only till Sunday next, and then you'll wait Behind the White-Thorn, by the broken Stile . We can go round and catch them at the Gate, All to Ourselves, for nearly one long Mile ; Dear Prue won't look, and Father...