A Festival of Art, Poetry and Song: Selections from the Greatest Poets of the English LanguageScammell, 1880 - 392 Seiten |
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Seite 7
... memory . His celebrated poem , written during his unjust imprisonment at Windsor , is universally admired ; and some of his sonnets are no less beautiful . Here is one : - The sootè seson , that bud and bloom forth brings 7.
... memory . His celebrated poem , written during his unjust imprisonment at Windsor , is universally admired ; and some of his sonnets are no less beautiful . Here is one : - The sootè seson , that bud and bloom forth brings 7.
Seite 10
... to his memory : - His honour stuck upon him as the sun In the gray vault of heaven , —and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts ! A scarcely less interesting character is that of the gallant.
... to his memory : - His honour stuck upon him as the sun In the gray vault of heaven , —and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts ! A scarcely less interesting character is that of the gallant.
Seite 55
... memory of his lost love , whose sudden death occurred just prior to their appointed nuptials . The poet was of noble lineage , and lived amidst the most romantic scenery , at his fine castle on the banks of the Esk . following are his ...
... memory of his lost love , whose sudden death occurred just prior to their appointed nuptials . The poet was of noble lineage , and lived amidst the most romantic scenery , at his fine castle on the banks of the Esk . following are his ...
Seite 112
... Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise , Where through the long - drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise . Can storied urn , or animated bust , Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can ...
... Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise , Where through the long - drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise . Can storied urn , or animated bust , Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can ...
Seite 113
... memory of the bard is , however , even more closely associated with another locality - that of Stoke . It was here he wrote , wandered , and died ; and here , all that was mortal of him sleeps , under the yew - tree's shade . Gray ...
... memory of the bard is , however , even more closely associated with another locality - that of Stoke . It was here he wrote , wandered , and died ; and here , all that was mortal of him sleeps , under the yew - tree's shade . Gray ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Annabel Lee bard beautiful bell Ben Jonson bird blest bloom blossoms bower breast breath bright Charles Lamb charm clouds dark dear death delight divine doth dreams dull earth dwelling earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fear flowers genius gentle GEOFFREY CHAUCER glory glowing golden grace grave green hair hand happy hath hear heart heaven hour kiss leaves light lines live look lover lyre lyric mind moon morning muse Nature's never night noble numbers nymph o'er old oaken bucket passage passion PHOEBE CARY pleasure poem poet poetic poetry rill rose round shade shining sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanzas stars stream summer sweet Tabard tears tell thee thine thou thought Tipsy band trees Twas Tybalt verse voice wave weary weep wild wind wings youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 315 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Seite 39 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Seite 21 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of?
Seite 220 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Seite 44 - You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Seite 83 - Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Seite 135 - He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Seite 31 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments : love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be taken.
Seite 36 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Seite 274 - That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...