The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate, Etc: Complete in Two VolumesTicknor and Fields, 1861 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 15
Strana 19
... murmurs harsh , Or even a lowly cottage whence we see Stretched wide and wild the waste enormous marsh , Where from the frequent bridge , Like emblems of infinity , The trenchéd waters run from sky to sky ; Or a garden bowered close ...
... murmurs harsh , Or even a lowly cottage whence we see Stretched wide and wild the waste enormous marsh , Where from the frequent bridge , Like emblems of infinity , The trenchéd waters run from sky to sky ; Or a garden bowered close ...
Strana 77
... murmur of reply . What is it that will take away my sin , And save me lest I die ? " So when four years were wholly finished , She threw her royal robes away . 66 Make me a cottage in the vale , ” she said . " Where I may mourn and pray ...
... murmur of reply . What is it that will take away my sin , And save me lest I die ? " So when four years were wholly finished , She threw her royal robes away . 66 Make me a cottage in the vale , ” she said . " Where I may mourn and pray ...
Strana 108
... murmur of the strife , But enter not the toil of life . Your spirit is the calmed sea , Laid by the tumult of the fight . You are the evening star , alway Remaining betwixt dark and bright : Lulled echoes of laborious day Come to you ...
... murmur of the strife , But enter not the toil of life . Your spirit is the calmed sea , Laid by the tumult of the fight . You are the evening star , alway Remaining betwixt dark and bright : Lulled echoes of laborious day Come to you ...
Strana 136
... murmur broke the stillness of that air Which brooded round about her : " Ah , one rose , One rose , but one , by those fair fingers culled , Were worth a hundred kisses pressed on lips Less exquisite than thine ! " She looked : but all ...
... murmur broke the stillness of that air Which brooded round about her : " Ah , one rose , One rose , but one , by those fair fingers culled , Were worth a hundred kisses pressed on lips Less exquisite than thine ! " She looked : but all ...
Strana 150
... take the meaning , Lord : I do not breathe , Not whisper , any murmur of complaint . Pain heaped ten - hundred - fo'd to this , were still Less burthen , by ten - hundred - fold , 150 WALKING TO THE MAIL . St Simeon Stylites.
... take the meaning , Lord : I do not breathe , Not whisper , any murmur of complaint . Pain heaped ten - hundred - fo'd to this , were still Less burthen , by ten - hundred - fold , 150 WALKING TO THE MAIL . St Simeon Stylites.
Další vydání - Zobrazit všechny
The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson: Poems, Svazek 1,Svazek 3 Alfred Tennyson Úplné zobrazení - 1860 |
The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson Úplné zobrazení - 1867 |
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answer arms beneath betwixt blazoned blow breast breath brows Camelot cataract cheek child cloud crown Cyril dark dead dear death deep dipt Dora dream dropt earth Edwin Morris evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fall Florian flowers flying folds forever hand happy harken ere hath head hear heard heart Heaven hollow hour king King Arthur kiss knew Lady of Shalott Lady Psyche land Let them rave light lips live Locksley Hall look Lord maid maiden measured words mermen moon morn mother Ida move murmur night o'er Oriana Princess Princess Ida Queen rode rolled rose round sang scorn seemed shadow shame SIMEON STYLITES Sir Bedivere sleep smile song soul sound spake speak spoke star stept stood summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought touch turned unto vext voice weary whisper wild wind woman words
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 131 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Strana 192 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see — Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens...
Strana 130 - If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
Strana 341 - ... white ; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font : The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake : So fold thyself, my dearest,...
Strana 184 - Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Strana 255 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Strana 294 - 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 7 - Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Strana 127 - King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.
Strana 93 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? 5° All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence — ripen, fall, and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.