One Hundred Sonnets1851 |
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16 psl.
... breath Thy brain - creation draws from out the Press Shall save thee from the struggler's sure distress , Or snatch thee from oblivion's cold , dark death : Bleed will thy temples with a thorny wreath , Just as thou deem'st the laurels ...
... breath Thy brain - creation draws from out the Press Shall save thee from the struggler's sure distress , Or snatch thee from oblivion's cold , dark death : Bleed will thy temples with a thorny wreath , Just as thou deem'st the laurels ...
29 psl.
... breathing - places for a privileged class , To enter which no son of labour dares , - Though who can blame them envying , as they pass , The gambols of proud Fortune's youthful heirs ? XXV . 3 . Thou hast not known what ' SONNETS . 29.
... breathing - places for a privileged class , To enter which no son of labour dares , - Though who can blame them envying , as they pass , The gambols of proud Fortune's youthful heirs ? XXV . 3 . Thou hast not known what ' SONNETS . 29.
33 psl.
... in its course beneath Rushes and murmurs o'er its stony bay . E'en as I muse , how fleeting is our breath ! I seem to feel the chillness of decay . C XXIX . COLERIDGE'S TOMB . With cloud and sunset autumn's SONNETS . 3338.
... in its course beneath Rushes and murmurs o'er its stony bay . E'en as I muse , how fleeting is our breath ! I seem to feel the chillness of decay . C XXIX . COLERIDGE'S TOMB . With cloud and sunset autumn's SONNETS . 3338.
45 psl.
... then the eye of pesnive Even Has seen me in their precincts thoughtful stray ; Here let my form commingle with the clay , And here await th ' awakening breath of Heaven , XLI . Not to old lands though I might SONNETS . 45.
... then the eye of pesnive Even Has seen me in their precincts thoughtful stray ; Here let my form commingle with the clay , And here await th ' awakening breath of Heaven , XLI . Not to old lands though I might SONNETS . 45.
54 psl.
... voice and beauteous colouring , Intone and brighten it to ear and sight- Which in the day - time prompts my harp to sing , And furnishes a pleasing dream at night . L. The tones that breath'd our passion were an hymn 54 SONNETS .
... voice and beauteous colouring , Intone and brighten it to ear and sight- Which in the day - time prompts my harp to sing , And furnishes a pleasing dream at night . L. The tones that breath'd our passion were an hymn 54 SONNETS .
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Adieu amid aught Bard beauteous flower beauty behold blessing breast breath bright brow calm charm cheer CHRYSANTHEMUMS daisy dandy poets dear deep delight didst dost dream dwell e'er ENDYMION fading Fancy feel fragrance gaze gleam hand happy harp hath hear heart Heaven holy hope hour humble HUNDRED SONNETS idolatry iron heel labour Life's light light from Heaven lips LONDON lone love song lyre manly Medway melodious memory memory's mind moan morn Muse ne'er neath night nought o'er Oppression's passion path peace poet poet's pride PRINTED BY WILLOUGHBY pure Romeo and Juliet round scenes scorn selfish sentiment Shine sleep smile SMITHFIELD sorrow soul Spring sublime sweet sympathy tears temples tender thee thine thou Thou'lt thoughts that elevate throng thy spirit toil tones touching strain trifling truth tyrants unto vale veil voice warble warm wearied wild WILLOUGHBY AND CO wing wisp woke yearn'd
Populiarios ištraukos
30 psl. - As age accumulates upon thy brow, And all thine energies become less warm, Securely rest on my more vigorous arm, Time the protectorship reverses now. If, by God's blessing, health and strength allow, My toil shall comfort thee ; secure from harm, No dread of want thy last days shall alarm, Nor workhouse insolence thy spirit bow.
30 psl. - God's blessing, health and strength allow, My toil shall comfort thee ; secure from harm, No dread of want thy last days shall alarm, Nor workhouse insolence thy spirit bow. Mother, though dim thine eye, yet many a day, While blithe I sported, didst thou toil for me Along no path of flowers, but a rude way, Beset with hardship and with poverty.
28 psl. - Warm from my bosom in a gushing flood My best affections still to thee incline ; Thy breast has been to me a holy shrine Where love unselfish, glowing gratitude, With all that makes us kind, or leaves us good, In one unchanging sentiment combine. I hold naught dearer than thy power to bless, As o'er the varied scenes of life I rove Not e'en the warm impassionate caress Meeting or parting with the maid I love : A mother's love ! while I such boon possess, I scarce would change my state with saints...
7 psl. - Withjoy,that thou thy watchdidst safely keep. Samaritan of life ! with pitying smile, When tired nature fails upon the road, Thou giv'st thy blessing to the sons of toil, Loos'ning the bandage of their wearying load : Though gold may win it not by chaffering wile, Unasked upon contentment 'tis bestowed.
28 psl. - I. Mother ! thou know'st how truly I am thine By ties of sympathy as well as blood ; Warm from my bosom, in a gushing flood, My best affections still to thee incline ; Thy breast has been to me a holy shrine, Where love unselfish, glowing gratitude, With all that makes us kind, or leaves us good, In one unchanging sentiment combine. I hold naught dearer than thy power to bless, As o'er the varied scenes of life I rove Not e'en the warm, impassionate caress, Meeting or parting with the maid I...
29 psl. - ... Untiring, eager, generous, and true, Thy tenderness did with my years keep pace, Seeking all sorrow from my brow to chase, And holding truth and virtue up to view. Thanks ! grateful thanks ! I have not all deserved, I plead me guilty to a wayward will ; Tet thou didst chide so mildly when I swerved, That 1 returned to love thee better still ; Thy warning counsel has my spirit nerved, And proved an antidote to many an ill. As age accumulates upon thy brow, And all thine energies become less warm,...
80 psl. - ... movings of the Muse's powers ? Nay. For the sunlight that gilds up the towers Of princes in the sheltered lane reveals The beauty of the primrose, and unseals Phials of fragrance in the violet's bowers. For Poetry can glad, illume, sustain, And dignify the humblest heart she sways : And though the world the trifles may disdain, Still dear unto the Poet are his lays. And whoso seeketh shall not seek in vain, For joys abundant in her pleasant ways.