In Memoriam, 1 leidimasEdward Moxon, Dover street, 1850 - 210 psl. The famous requiem for the poet's good friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, who died unexpectedly in 1833. "Tis better to have loved and lost," Tennyson writes, "than never to have loved at all." |
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10 psl.
... rings the gateway bell And learns her gone and far from home , He saddens , all the magic light Dies off at once from bower and hall , And all the place is dark , and all The chambers emptied of delight ; So find I every pleasant spot ...
... rings the gateway bell And learns her gone and far from home , He saddens , all the magic light Dies off at once from bower and hall , And all the place is dark , and all The chambers emptied of delight ; So find I every pleasant spot ...
105 psl.
... long forgotten mind . But what of that ? My darken'd ways Shall ring with music all the same ; To breathe my loss is more than fame , To utter love more sweet than praise . LXXVI . AGAIN at Christmas did we weave The holly 105.
... long forgotten mind . But what of that ? My darken'd ways Shall ring with music all the same ; To breathe my loss is more than fame , To utter love more sweet than praise . LXXVI . AGAIN at Christmas did we weave The holly 105.
126 psl.
... ring , And one an inner , here and there ; And last the master - bowman , he Would cleave the mark . A willing ear We lent him . Who , but hung to hear The rapt oration flowing free From point to point with power and grace , And music ...
... ring , And one an inner , here and there ; And last the master - bowman , he Would cleave the mark . A willing ear We lent him . Who , but hung to hear The rapt oration flowing free From point to point with power and grace , And music ...
128 psl.
... Rings Eden through the budded quicks , O tell me where the senses mix , O tell me where the passions meet , Whence radiate : fierce extremes employ Thy spirits in the dusking leaf , And in the midmost heart of grief Thy passion clasps a ...
... Rings Eden through the budded quicks , O tell me where the senses mix , O tell me where the passions meet , Whence radiate : fierce extremes employ Thy spirits in the dusking leaf , And in the midmost heart of grief Thy passion clasps a ...
161 psl.
... rising worlds by yonder wood . Long sleeps the summer in the seed ; Run out your measur'd arcs , and lead The closing cycle rich in good . M CIV . RING out wild bells to the wild sky 161 Long sleeps the summer in the seed; ...
... rising worlds by yonder wood . Long sleeps the summer in the seed ; Run out your measur'd arcs , and lead The closing cycle rich in good . M CIV . RING out wild bells to the wild sky 161 Long sleeps the summer in the seed; ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ambrosial beat Behold bells bliss blood bloom blow break breast breath brine bring brows calm chaff cloud cold crown'd Danube dark darken'd dead dear Death deep divine doubt dream dust dying earth ev'n evermore eyes fades fair faith faithless fall fall'n fancy fear flower gloom grave grief half hand happy happy days happy hour harp hath hear heart heaven hill hope Hope and Fear hour human land leaf leave light linnet lips lives look look'd love thee mind moon morn move Muse night o'er pain peace race regret rills Ring rise round seem'd Seraphic shade Shadow shore sing sleep song sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears thine things thou art thought thro touch touch'd trance trust truth unto voice walk'd weep whisper WHITEFRIARS wild wild bells wind wings wisdom words wrought yonder
Populiarios ištraukos
1 psl. - I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
76 psl. - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
81 psl. - Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed— Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills? No more? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail! O for thy voice to soothe and bless! What hope of answer, or redress? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
178 psl. - Now rings the woodland loud and long, The distance takes a lovelier hue, And drown'd in yonder living blue The lark becomes a sightless song. Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, The flocks are whiter down the vale, And milkier every milky sail On winding stream or distant sea...
88 psl. - Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star...
159 psl. - THE time draws near the birth of Christ : The moon is hid ; the night is still ; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound : Each voice four changes on the wind, That now dilate, and now decrease, Peace...
190 psl. - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen ! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go. But in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream, and hold it true; For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, I cannot think the thing farewell.
78 psl. - Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
77 psl. - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last— far off— at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream ; but what am I ? An infant crying in the night ; An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.
101 psl. - As sometimes in a dead man's face, To those that watch it more and more, A likeness, hardly seen before, Comes out — to some one of his race; So, dearest, now thy brows are cold, I see thee what thou art, and know Thy likeness to the wise below, Thy kindred with the great of old.