The Poems of Tennyson: 1830-1865Cassell, 1907 - Počet stran: 596 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 81
Strana 12
... lips Silver - treble laughter trilleth : Prythee weep , May Lilian . 4 Praying all I can , If prayers will not hush thee , Airy Lilian , Like a rose - leaf I will crush thee , Fairy Lilian . III ISABEL 1 EYES not down - dropt nor over ...
... lips Silver - treble laughter trilleth : Prythee weep , May Lilian . 4 Praying all I can , If prayers will not hush thee , Airy Lilian , Like a rose - leaf I will crush thee , Fairy Lilian . III ISABEL 1 EYES not down - dropt nor over ...
Strana 17
... lips should dare to kiss Thy taper fingers amorously , Again thou blushest angerly ; And o'er black brows drops down A sudden - curved frown . VII SONG THE OWL 1 WHEN cats run home and light is come , And dew is cold upon the ground ...
... lips should dare to kiss Thy taper fingers amorously , Again thou blushest angerly ; And o'er black brows drops down A sudden - curved frown . VII SONG THE OWL 1 WHEN cats run home and light is come , And dew is cold upon the ground ...
Strana 22
... lips and full blue eyes Take the heart from out my breast Wherefore those dim looks of thine , Shadowy , dreaming Adeline ? 2 Whence that aery bloom of thine , Like a lily which the sun Looks thro ' in his sad decline , And a rose ...
... lips and full blue eyes Take the heart from out my breast Wherefore those dim looks of thine , Shadowy , dreaming Adeline ? 2 Whence that aery bloom of thine , Like a lily which the sun Looks thro ' in his sad decline , And a rose ...
Strana 24
... lips depress'd as he were meek , Himself unto himself he sold : Upon himself himself did feed : Quiet , dispassionate , and cold , And other than his form of creed , With chisell'd features clear and sleek . XIII THE POET THE poet in a ...
... lips depress'd as he were meek , Himself unto himself he sold : Upon himself himself did feed : Quiet , dispassionate , and cold , And other than his form of creed , With chisell'd features clear and sleek . XIII THE POET THE poet in a ...
Strana 32
... , though they uprend the sea , Even from its central deeps : thine empery Is over all thou wilt not brook eclipse ; Thou goest and returnest to His lips Like lightning : thou dost ever brood above The silence 32 POEMS Love.
... , though they uprend the sea , Even from its central deeps : thine empery Is over all thou wilt not brook eclipse ; Thou goest and returnest to His lips Like lightning : thou dost ever brood above The silence 32 POEMS Love.
Obsah
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Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
answer'd arms Arthur beneath blood blow breath brows Caerleon call'd Camelot cheek child cried dark dead dear death deep dipt Dora dream earth Edwin Morris Enid Enoch evermore Excalibur eyes face fair Fair lord father fear flower Geraint golden Guinevere hall hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hesper hills hour jousts King King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine light Limours lips live Locksley Hall look look'd lord maid maiden moon morn mother move never night noble o'er once passion Prince Queen rode roll'd rose round seem'd shadow shame silent sing Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot sleep smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro turn'd unto vext voice weep wild wind words
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 296 - Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Strana 343 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean. Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. " 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.
Strana 234 - We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness : let it grow. Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Strana 342 - 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 ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Strana 232 - " Charge for the guns ! " he said ; Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Strana 152 - Myself not least, but honor'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Strana 113 - And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. What good should follow this, if this were done ? What harm, undone ? Deep harm to disobey, Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand An act unprofitable, against himself ? The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
Strana 343 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd 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!
Strana 215 - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
Strana 112 - I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, Which was my pride : for thou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, Holding the sword — and how I...