Sibylline Leaves: A Collection of PoemsRest Fenner, 1817 - 303 psl. |
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64 psl.
... singing sky - lark ever pois'd himself . The hills are heathy , save that swelling slope , Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on , All golden with the never - bloomless furze , Which now blooms ... singing - lark ( that sings unseen 64.
... singing sky - lark ever pois'd himself . The hills are heathy , save that swelling slope , Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on , All golden with the never - bloomless furze , Which now blooms ... singing - lark ( that sings unseen 64.
65 psl.
A Collection of Poems Samuel Taylor Coleridge. While from the singing - lark ( that sings unseen The minstrelsy that solitude loves best , ) And from the Sun , and from the breezy Air , Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame ; And he ...
A Collection of Poems Samuel Taylor Coleridge. While from the singing - lark ( that sings unseen The minstrelsy that solitude loves best , ) And from the Sun , and from the breezy Air , Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame ; And he ...
72 psl.
... sing my stately songs , Loving the God that made me ! May my fears , My filial fears , be vain ! and may the vaunts And menace of the vengeful enemy Pass like the gust , that roar'd and died away In the distant tree : which heard , and ...
... sing my stately songs , Loving the God that made me ! May my fears , My filial fears , be vain ! and may the vaunts And menace of the vengeful enemy Pass like the gust , that roar'd and died away In the distant tree : which heard , and ...
120 psl.
... sing The songs that make her grieve . I play'd a soft and doleful air , I sang an old and moving story- An old rude song , that suited well That ruin wild and hoary . She listen'd with a flitting blush , With downcast eyes and modest ...
... sing The songs that make her grieve . I play'd a soft and doleful air , I sang an old and moving story- An old rude song , that suited well That ruin wild and hoary . She listen'd with a flitting blush , With downcast eyes and modest ...
127 psl.
... sings o'er her head : VOICE of the Night ! had I the power That leafy labyrinth to thread , And creep , like thee , with soundless tread , I then might view her bosom white Heaving lovely to my sight , As these two swans together heave ...
... sings o'er her head : VOICE of the Night ! had I the power That leafy labyrinth to thread , And creep , like thee , with soundless tread , I then might view her bosom white Heaving lovely to my sight , As these two swans together heave ...
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Albatross ancient Mariner arms babe beneath bird black lips blast blessed bower breath breeze bright bright eye calm cheek child cloud curse dæmons dark dead dear Rain deep dream Earl HENRY Earth Edward Ellen fancy fear feelings gaz'd gazed gentle green groan hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy hope Jeremy Taylor land of mist Lewti light limbs living look'd loud lov'd Maid melancholy methinks Milton mind Moon mossy Mother murmur ne'er Nether Stowey night o'er ocean once PATRICK SPENCE Poem poor prayer ROBERT SOUTHEY rock round S. T. COLERIDGE sails scarcely seem'd ship sigh silent sing sleep song soul sound spirit stars stept stood strange stream sweet sweet sensations swelling tale tears tell thee thine things thou thought thro toil twas Twill voice Wedding-Guest wild wind wings 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.