The Household Book of PoetryCharles Anderson Dana D. Appleton, 1882 - 862 psl. |
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70 psl.
... seemed no sleep , No mood which season takes away or brings : I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle things . Ah ! then if mine had been the painter's hand To express what then I saw , and add the ...
... seemed no sleep , No mood which season takes away or brings : I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle things . Ah ! then if mine had been the painter's hand To express what then I saw , and add the ...
75 psl.
... seemed , of slight and scorn ; My true - love sighed for sorrow , And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! " Oh , green , " said I , " are Yarrow's holms And sweet is Yarrow flowing ! Fair hangs the apple frae ...
... seemed , of slight and scorn ; My true - love sighed for sorrow , And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! " Oh , green , " said I , " are Yarrow's holms And sweet is Yarrow flowing ! Fair hangs the apple frae ...
89 psl.
... seemed to pity the grass it prest ; You might hear by the heaving of her breast , That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind . And wherever her airy footstep trod , Her trailing hair from the ...
... seemed to pity the grass it prest ; You might hear by the heaving of her breast , That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind . And wherever her airy footstep trod , Her trailing hair from the ...
124 psl.
... Seemed to feast with head and ears ; and his tail 66 with pleasure shook . “ Drink , pretty creature , drink ! " she said , in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own . ' Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite , a child of ...
... Seemed to feast with head and ears ; and his tail 66 with pleasure shook . “ Drink , pretty creature , drink ! " she said , in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own . ' Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite , a child of ...
125 psl.
... seemed , as I retraced the ballad line by line , That but half of it was hers , and one - half of it was mine . " Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought Again and once again , did I repeat the song ; thee in this can Fresh water ...
... seemed , as I retraced the ballad line by line , That but half of it was hers , and one - half of it was mine . " Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought Again and once again , did I repeat the song ; thee in this can Fresh water ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ALFRED TENNYSON BARRY CORNWALL beauty bells beneath Binnorie bird blessed bonnie breast breath bright brow cloud dark dead dear death deep dost doth dream earth eyes fair fear flowers frae glory golden grace grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven heir of Linne HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hill king kiss lady land light lips live look Lord milldams moon morning ne'er never night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY praise ROBERT BURNS ROBERT HERRICK rose round shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream summer sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tree Twas unto voice waves weary weep wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods young Beichan youth
Populiarios ištraukos
665 psl. - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
779 psl. - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
417 psl. - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
114 psl. - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep, my...
742 psl. - ON HIS BLINDNESS WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
614 psl. - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
30 psl. - I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but...
666 psl. - In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone They are neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls,...
785 psl. - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; 'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic...
676 psl. - Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face ; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!