The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, Dover Street, 1851 - 182 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 6–10 iš 31
81 psl.
... beat , nor pretty babes To be dandled , no , but living wills , and sphered Whole in ourselves and owed to none . Enough ! But now to leaven play with profit , you , Know you no song , the true growth of your soil , That gives the ...
... beat , nor pretty babes To be dandled , no , but living wills , and sphered Whole in ourselves and owed to none . Enough ! But now to leaven play with profit , you , Know you no song , the true growth of your soil , That gives the ...
103 psl.
... To whom the touch of all mischance but came As night to him that sitting on a hill Sees the midsummer , midnight , Norway sun Set into sunrise : then we moved away . Thy voice is heard thro ' rolling drums That beat A MEDLEY . 103.
... To whom the touch of all mischance but came As night to him that sitting on a hill Sees the midsummer , midnight , Norway sun Set into sunrise : then we moved away . Thy voice is heard thro ' rolling drums That beat A MEDLEY . 103.
104 psl.
... beat to battle where he stands ; Thy face across his fancy comes , And gives the battle to his hands : A moment while the trumpets blow , He sees his brood about thy knee ; The next , like fire he meets the foe , And strikes him dead ...
... beat to battle where he stands ; Thy face across his fancy comes , And gives the battle to his hands : A moment while the trumpets blow , He sees his brood about thy knee ; The next , like fire he meets the foe , And strikes him dead ...
110 psl.
... beat my girl Remembering her mother : O my flower ! Or they will take her , they will make her hard , And she will pass me by in after - life With some cold reverence worse than were she dead . Ill mother that I was to leave her there ...
... beat my girl Remembering her mother : O my flower ! Or they will take her , they will make her hard , And she will pass me by in after - life With some cold reverence worse than were she dead . Ill mother that I was to leave her there ...
118 psl.
... rose a cry As if to greet the king ; they made a halt ; The horses yell'd ; they clash'd their arms ; the drum Beat ; merrily - blowing shrill'd the martial fife ; And in the blast and bray of the long horn 118 THE PRINCESS ;
... rose a cry As if to greet the king ; they made a halt ; The horses yell'd ; they clash'd their arms ; the drum Beat ; merrily - blowing shrill'd the martial fife ; And in the blast and bray of the long horn 118 THE PRINCESS ;
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms beat betwixt blood blow break breast breathe brows call'd cataract Celt child cried Cyril dark dash'd dead dear death deep dipt doubt DOVER STREET dream dropt dying earth EDWARD MOXON eyes face fair faith fall'n fancy father fear Florian flower flying grief half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven hills hour king Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa mind moon morning mother move Muses night noble o'er once peace Prince Princess Princess Ida rapt Ring rose round sang seem'd shadow shame sleep song sorrow soul spake speak spirit spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro touch'd trumpet truth turn'd unto vext voice wassail wild wild bells wind Winter's tale woman words
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.
78 psl. - THE wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave ; Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul ? 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...
73 psl. - THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying O hark, O hear!
76 psl. - Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain.
76 psl. - ... Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
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...
186 psl. - I trust I have not wasted breath: I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death; Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay.
76 psl. - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
69 psl. - That each, who seems a separate whole, Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet: Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside; And I shall know him when we meet...