Sibylline Leaves: A Collection of Poems |
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vii psl.
His young ones were kill'd : for they could not depart , And their mother did die of a broken heart . The boughs from the trunk the woodman did sever And they floated it down on the course of the river . * Seventeen or eighteen years ...
His young ones were kill'd : for they could not depart , And their mother did die of a broken heart . The boughs from the trunk the woodman did sever And they floated it down on the course of the river . * Seventeen or eighteen years ...
ix psl.
I'll tell , that if they be not glad , They yet may envy me : But then if I grow jealous mad , And of them pitied be , " Twould vex me worse than scorn ! And yet it cannot be forborn , Unless my heart would like my thoughts be torn .
I'll tell , that if they be not glad , They yet may envy me : But then if I grow jealous mad , And of them pitied be , " Twould vex me worse than scorn ! And yet it cannot be forborn , Unless my heart would like my thoughts be torn .
xi psl.
... 15 , and 16 , read as follows : How soon to re - unite ! And see ! they meet , Each in the other lost and found : and , see ! Placeless , as spirits , one soft Water - sun Throbbing within them , Heart at once and Eye !
... 15 , and 16 , read as follows : How soon to re - unite ! And see ! they meet , Each in the other lost and found : and , see ! Placeless , as spirits , one soft Water - sun Throbbing within them , Heart at once and Eye !
14 psl.
( thought I , and my heart beat loud ) How fast she nears and nears ! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun , Like restless gossameres ! Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer , as through a grate ?
( thought I , and my heart beat loud ) How fast she nears and nears ! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun , Like restless gossameres ! Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer , as through a grate ?
15 psl.
Fear at my heart , as at a cup , My life - blood seem'd to sip ! The stars were dim , and thick the night , The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd white ; From the sails the dews did drip- Till clombe above the eastern bar The horned ...
Fear at my heart , as at a cup , My life - blood seem'd to sip ! The stars were dim , and thick the night , The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd white ; From the sails the dews did drip- Till clombe above the eastern bar The horned ...
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Sibylline Leaves A Collection of Poems (Classic Reprint) Samuel Taylor Coleridge Peržiūra negalima - 2016 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ancient arms Author beautiful beneath bird blessed blue breath breeze bright calm child close cloud dark dead dear Death deep dream Earth face fair FAMINE Father fear feelings gazed gentle green groan half hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill hope hour leaves light limbs living look loud Maid Mariner mind Moon morn Mother moved Nature never night o'er once pain Peace pleasure Poem poor present Price Rain rest rise rock rose round scarcely ship silent sing sleep soft song soon soul sound spirit stars stood strain strange stream sweet tale tears tell thee things thou thought truth twas voice wild wind wings wood youth
Populiarios ištraukos
38 psl. - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
37 psl. - Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row." And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. "O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit crossed his brow. "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say What manner of man art thou?
27 psl. - Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
10 psl. - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
22 psl. - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs : I was so light almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.
35 psl. - Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said "And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them. Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolfs young." "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look (The Pilot made reply) I am a-feared
23 psl. - The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot" from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide.
21 psl. - Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole ! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.
164 psl. - Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
30 psl. - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.