Favourite English poems and poets1870 - 672 Seiten |
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Seite xviii
... voices in E. H. WEHNERT the air The moon was high ; the dead men stood together And on the bay the moonlight lay . I heard them talk , Why , this is strange , I trow ! E. H. WEHNERT BIRKET FOSTER E. H. WEHNERT 508 • 510 512 • 513 516 ...
... voices in E. H. WEHNERT the air The moon was high ; the dead men stood together And on the bay the moonlight lay . I heard them talk , Why , this is strange , I trow ! E. H. WEHNERT BIRKET FOSTER E. H. WEHNERT 508 • 510 512 • 513 516 ...
Seite 13
... voice right comfortable , Again ' the orient beamis , amiable , Upon a blissful branch of laurel green ; This was her sentence , sweet and delectable , A lusty life in Lovis service been . Under this branch ran down a river bright , Of ...
... voice right comfortable , Again ' the orient beamis , amiable , Upon a blissful branch of laurel green ; This was her sentence , sweet and delectable , A lusty life in Lovis service been . Under this branch ran down a river bright , Of ...
Seite 16
... love not in the feindis net be tone , But love the love that did for his love die : All love is lost but upon God alone . Then sang they both with voices loud and clear , 16 DUNBAR . 1460-1530 . FAVOURITE ENGLISH POEMS .
... love not in the feindis net be tone , But love the love that did for his love die : All love is lost but upon God alone . Then sang they both with voices loud and clear , 16 DUNBAR . 1460-1530 . FAVOURITE ENGLISH POEMS .
Seite 17
English poems. Then sang they both with voices loud and clear , The Merle sang , Man , love God that has thee wrought , The Nightingale sang , Man , love the Lord most dear , That thee and all this world made of nought . The Merle said ...
English poems. Then sang they both with voices loud and clear , The Merle sang , Man , love God that has thee wrought , The Nightingale sang , Man , love the Lord most dear , That thee and all this world made of nought . The Merle said ...
Seite 83
... voices sure would spare , That moduleth her tunes so admirably rare , As man to set in parts at first had learn'd of her . To Philomel the next , the linnet we prefer ; And by that warbling bird , the wood - lark place we then , The red ...
... voices sure would spare , That moduleth her tunes so admirably rare , As man to set in parts at first had learn'd of her . To Philomel the next , the linnet we prefer ; And by that warbling bird , the wood - lark place we then , The red ...
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a-thynkynge beauty beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER blow born breast breath bright CHRISTOPHER MARLOW clouds CRESWICK dead dear death delight died doth dream E. H. WEHNERT E. M. WIMPERIS earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fame favourite fear flowers gentle GEORGE THOMAS glory grace grave green grief groves GUSTAVE Doré happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour Hudibras Inchcape Rock JOHN GILBERT JOSHUA SYLVESTER King lady light live Lochaber look Lord Lute Lycidas merry mind morn mother ne'er never night Nightingale o'er Palie Piers Ploughman pleasure poem poet poetry praise pray Queen rise rose round sche seem'd shade shepherd sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound swain tears tell thee thine thou art thought Twas voice waves weary Westminster Abbey wild wind youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 318 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Seite 307 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Seite 304 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Seite 582 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The Vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." " And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so,
Seite 70 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Seite 419 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Seite 301 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If 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.
Seite 299 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Seite 494 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun, Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ? Is DEATH that woman's mate ? Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold : Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice ; " The game is done ! I've won ! I've won ! " Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
Seite 552 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by ;...