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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... 1xr lat mine & Int well how to te ? 12 4 198 # errors baserers the " for " the " bo t " b UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD ENGLISH FACULTY LIBRARY Given to the Library by Dr.Alice Walker 1966 For my dear Daughter The quest Intelligences fair our ...
... 1xr lat mine & Int well how to te ? 12 4 198 # errors baserers the " for " the " bo t " b UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD ENGLISH FACULTY LIBRARY Given to the Library by Dr.Alice Walker 1966 For my dear Daughter The quest Intelligences fair our ...
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Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. For my dear Daughter The quest Intelligences fair our mortal stat that range above In circle round the blessed gate Received and I gave her welcome there 6118 Aptain Abbey Lodge Neue 1850 . te 118 IN MEMORIAM ...
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. For my dear Daughter The quest Intelligences fair our mortal stat that range above In circle round the blessed gate Received and I gave her welcome there 6118 Aptain Abbey Lodge Neue 1850 . te 118 IN MEMORIAM ...
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... fair . I trust he lives in Thee , and there I find him worthier to be loved . Forgive these wild and wandering cries , Confusions of a wasted youth ; Forgive them where they fail in truth , And in Thy wisdom make me wise . 1849 . IN ...
... fair . I trust he lives in Thee , and there I find him worthier to be loved . Forgive these wild and wandering cries , Confusions of a wasted youth ; Forgive them where they fail in truth , And in Thy wisdom make me wise . 1849 . IN ...
7 psl.
... fair , Poor child , that waitest for thy love ! For now her father's chimney glows In expectation of a guest ; C And thinking this will please him best , ' She takes a riband or a rose ; For he will see them on to - night ; And with the ...
... fair , Poor child , that waitest for thy love ! For now her father's chimney glows In expectation of a guest ; C And thinking this will please him best , ' She takes a riband or a rose ; For he will see them on to - night ; And with the ...
11 psl.
... little cared for fades not yet . But since it pleased a vanish'd eye I go to plant it on his tomb , That if it can it there may bloom , Or dying there at least may die . IX . FAIR ship , that from the Italian shore 11.
... little cared for fades not yet . But since it pleased a vanish'd eye I go to plant it on his tomb , That if it can it there may bloom , Or dying there at least may die . IX . FAIR ship , that from the Italian shore 11.
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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.