The Sibyl: Or, New Oracles from the PoetsCaroline Howard Gilman Wiley and Putnam, 1848 - 313 psl. |
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Rezultatai 6–10 iš 28
107 psl.
... John . BERANGER . 3 . Isabel , The dark - eyed spiritual Isabel ! 4. With Leonora it shall be your fate To be entwined forever - but too late . N. P. WILLIS . BYRON - Lament of Tasso . 5. Your Sara came , with gentlest look divine ...
... John . BERANGER . 3 . Isabel , The dark - eyed spiritual Isabel ! 4. With Leonora it shall be your fate To be entwined forever - but too late . N. P. WILLIS . BYRON - Lament of Tasso . 5. Your Sara came , with gentlest look divine ...
115 psl.
... JOHN WILSON . 54. Fair as a summer dream is Margaret , Such dream as in a poet's soul may start , Musing of old loves while the moon doth set . LOWELL . 55. Julia walking on the heath , With the pale moon above her . PRAED . 56. Dear ...
... JOHN WILSON . 54. Fair as a summer dream is Margaret , Such dream as in a poet's soul may start , Musing of old loves while the moon doth set . LOWELL . 55. Julia walking on the heath , With the pale moon above her . PRAED . 56. Dear ...
122 psl.
... JOHN SHEPPARD - An Autumn Dream . 108. Eliza ! What fools are the Musselmen sect , Who to woman deny the soul's future existence ! Could they see thee , Eliza , they'd own their defect , And this doctrine would meet with a general ...
... JOHN SHEPPARD - An Autumn Dream . 108. Eliza ! What fools are the Musselmen sect , Who to woman deny the soul's future existence ! Could they see thee , Eliza , they'd own their defect , And this doctrine would meet with a general ...
129 psl.
... John lives or dies ; His dress , speech , gesture , studies , friendships , all Being fashioned to your liking . CHARLES LAMB - John Woodvil . 18. Here is Richard -- poor indeed - but - nay This is self - torment - foolish thoughts away ...
... John lives or dies ; His dress , speech , gesture , studies , friendships , all Being fashioned to your liking . CHARLES LAMB - John Woodvil . 18. Here is Richard -- poor indeed - but - nay This is self - torment - foolish thoughts away ...
130 psl.
... John . 28. What is the blush already on your cheek ? You think of Sam I am about to speak . 29. How handsome Frederic is by all's confessed , How well he looks , how fashionably dressed ! And then he loves you more than mind can guess ...
... John . 28. What is the blush already on your cheek ? You think of Sam I am about to speak . 29. How handsome Frederic is by all's confessed , How well he looks , how fashionably dressed ! And then he loves you more than mind can guess ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM BARRETT-The BARRY CORNWALL beauty BEN JONSON beneath bird bloom blossom blue blushing bower breath breeze bright brow BURNS CARLOS WILCOX charm cheek clouds COLERIDGE CRABBE CRABBE-Tales dark deep doth dwell earth ELIZA COOK eyes face FANNY KEMBLE flowers gentle Gentlemen of Verona grace green hair HALLECK happy HARTLEY COLERIDGE hath hear heart heaven HORNE-Orion LADY LADY-LOVE LEIGH HUNT light lily lips look Love's Labor Lost Merchant of Venice merry mind MISS BARRETT morning MOTHERWELL MOULTRIE-The Dream N. P. WILLIS NICOLL night noble o'er OSGOOD passion Poems by Amelia Poets PRAED PRAED-The pure R. H. DANA rose round shade shines sigh sings smile soft song soul spirit Spring star stream Summer sweet TAYLOR-Philip Van Artevelde tender thee thine things thou thought Timon toil trees trembling truth voice walk wave wild wind wings Winter's Tale WORDSWORTH young youth
Populiarios ištraukos
245 psl. - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!
230 psl. - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
103 psl. - Familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences...
147 psl. - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
101 psl. - This should have been a noble creature : he Hath all the energy which would have made A goodly frame of glorious elements, Had they been wisely mingled ; as it is, It is an awful chaos — light and darkness — And mind and dust — and passions and pure thoughts, Mix'd, and contending without end or order, All dormant or destructive...
144 psl. - There stands the messenger of truth : there stands The legate of the skies ! — His theme divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him the violated law speaks out Its thunders ; and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.
94 psl. - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
251 psl. - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
85 psl. - For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart . . . how shall I say? . . . too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, 'twas all one!
59 psl. - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.