The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - 272 Seiten |
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Seite 15
... hath ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more , And the storm has ceased to blow . Campbell . Ellen's Song SOLDIER , rest ! thy warfare o'er , Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more ...
... hath ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more , And the storm has ceased to blow . Campbell . Ellen's Song SOLDIER , rest ! thy warfare o'er , Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more ...
Seite 28
... hath quite forgot to rave , While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave . The Stars with deep amaze VI Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze , Bending one way their precious influence , And will not take their flight , For all the ...
... hath quite forgot to rave , While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave . The Stars with deep amaze VI Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze , Bending one way their precious influence , And will not take their flight , For all the ...
Seite 33
... Hath left in shadows dread XXIII His burning Idol all of blackest hue ; In vain with cymbals ' ring , They call the grisly king , In dismal dance about the furnace blue ; The brutish gods of Nile as fast , Isis and Orus , and the Dog ...
... Hath left in shadows dread XXIII His burning Idol all of blackest hue ; In vain with cymbals ' ring , They call the grisly king , In dismal dance about the furnace blue ; The brutish gods of Nile as fast , Isis and Orus , and the Dog ...
Seite 34
... Hath laid her Babe to rest ; Time is our tedious Song should here have ending ; Heav'n's youngest - teemèd Star Hath fix'd her polish'd Car , Her sleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending : And all about the courtly Stable , Bright ...
... Hath laid her Babe to rest ; Time is our tedious Song should here have ending ; Heav'n's youngest - teemèd Star Hath fix'd her polish'd Car , Her sleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending : And all about the courtly Stable , Bright ...
Seite 40
... Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam , The seasons ' difference ; -as the icy fang And churlish ...
... Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam , The seasons ' difference ; -as the icy fang And churlish ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
A. E. Housman auld auld lang syne beauty beneath birds blow breath bright Burns calm Cassius cloud cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dread dream earth echoing Green eyes fair Farewell flowers glory grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Newbolt hill John Anderson king Kirconnell land Laurence Binyon leaves light live lonely Lord loud Lycidas maun Milton mirth mist moon morning never night o'er pain pale peace Plymouth Hoe poem Quinquereme rest Ring round seem'd Shakespeare Shelley ship shore silent sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanza stars stood stream sweet syne tears thee thine things thou art thought tree True Thomas Twas voice W. B. Yeats W. H. Davies waves weary wild wind wings woods youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 175 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee!
Seite 163 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Seite 16 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Seite 175 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Seite 174 - 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...
Seite 162 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these?
Seite 205 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well...
Seite 85 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Seite 18 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Seite 26 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.