The Standard poetry book, selected from the best authors1866 - Počet stran: 274 |
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Výsledky 1-5 z 38
Strana vi
... Dream Greece The Snow - Storm .... Sleep Richard and Aumerle ........ The Better Land ....... Boadicea The Rainbow The Cotter's Saturday Night The Flight of Xerxes ....... J. Montgomery Shakspeare .. 41 ......... Mrs. Hemans 42 Cowper ...
... Dream Greece The Snow - Storm .... Sleep Richard and Aumerle ........ The Better Land ....... Boadicea The Rainbow The Cotter's Saturday Night The Flight of Xerxes ....... J. Montgomery Shakspeare .. 41 ......... Mrs. Hemans 42 Cowper ...
Strana ix
... Dream Song of a Greek Gratitude ...... Thermopylæ * . * ...... ..... 155 157 Coleridge ............... 157 Pope .... 158 Herbert ....... 159 Burns Campbell .... Goldsmith Croly Byron Addison Byron 160 .... 161 ........ 162 162 ...
... Dream Song of a Greek Gratitude ...... Thermopylæ * . * ...... ..... 155 157 Coleridge ............... 157 Pope .... 158 Herbert ....... 159 Burns Campbell .... Goldsmith Croly Byron Addison Byron 160 .... 161 ........ 162 162 ...
Strana x
... Dream On True Dignity Scott ....... Shakspeare . 215 .... 217 Beattie 219 The Patriot and Warrior Cowper 220 Solitude and Adversity The Merchant of Venice The Belvidere Apollo ..... Shakspeare . 221 Shakspeare 221 Milman 228 Il ...
... Dream On True Dignity Scott ....... Shakspeare . 215 .... 217 Beattie 219 The Patriot and Warrior Cowper 220 Solitude and Adversity The Merchant of Venice The Belvidere Apollo ..... Shakspeare . 221 Shakspeare 221 Milman 228 Il ...
Strana 10
... dreams of its wintry rest . The snowdrop , and then the violet , Arose from the ground with warm rain wet , And their breath was mix'd with fresh odour , sent From the turf , like the voice and the instrument . Then the pied wind ...
... dreams of its wintry rest . The snowdrop , and then the violet , Arose from the ground with warm rain wet , And their breath was mix'd with fresh odour , sent From the turf , like the voice and the instrument . Then the pied wind ...
Strana 16
... dreams doe flye ; Why , then , should sorrow last ? Since grief but aggravates thy losse , Grieve not for what is past . " " O say not soe , thou holy friar ; I pray thee , say not soe : For since my true - love dyed for mee , ' Tis ...
... dreams doe flye ; Why , then , should sorrow last ? Since grief but aggravates thy losse , Grieve not for what is past . " " O say not soe , thou holy friar ; I pray thee , say not soe : For since my true - love dyed for mee , ' Tis ...
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The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book Náhled není k dispozici. - 2015 |
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angel battle beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath bright brow Brutus child clouds cold cried dark dead dear death deep doth dreams ears earth eyes face fair fall father fear field fire flowers gentle give grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy hope hour king land leaves light live looks meet mind morn mother mountain Nature never night o'er once pass pleasure poor pray prayer pride rest rise rock round shade side sight sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound spirit springs stars stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thought thousand tree turn Twas voice wave wild wind wings woods young youth
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Strana 199 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Strana 161 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Strana 117 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the...
Strana 141 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Strana 198 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Strana 91 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Strana 158 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Strana 116 - There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again ; And all went merry as a marriage-bell, But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Strana 63 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Strana 216 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower— Before, milk-white; now purple with love's wound— And maidens call it, love-in-idleness.