The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - 272 pages |
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Page 114
... a man of me . About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm , Still you ' ll help me , hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave . A. E. Housman . Song in Absence GREEN fields of England ! wheresoe'er ...
... a man of me . About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm , Still you ' ll help me , hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave . A. E. Housman . Song in Absence GREEN fields of England ! wheresoe'er ...
Page 145
... A. E. Housman . • 132 Eve to Adam With thee conversing I forget all time , All seasons and their change , all please alike . Sweet is the breath of morn , her rising sweet , With charm of earliest Birds ; pleasant the Sun When first on ...
... A. E. Housman . • 132 Eve to Adam With thee conversing I forget all time , All seasons and their change , all please alike . Sweet is the breath of morn , her rising sweet , With charm of earliest Birds ; pleasant the Sun When first on ...
Page 153
... A. E. Housman . 139 A Prophecy From Locksley Hall 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 fill with commerce , argosies of magic sails ...
... A. E. Housman . 139 A Prophecy From Locksley Hall 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 fill with commerce , argosies of magic sails ...
Page 177
... a vision or a waking dream ? Fled is that music : -Do I wake or sleep ? 157 INTO my heart an air that kills 158 Keats ... A. E. Housman . MUSIC , when soft voices die , Vibrates in the memory— Odours , when sweet violets sicken , Live ...
... a vision or a waking dream ? Fled is that music : -Do I wake or sleep ? 157 INTO my heart an air that kills 158 Keats ... A. E. Housman . MUSIC , when soft voices die , Vibrates in the memory— Odours , when sweet violets sicken , Live ...
Page 187
... A. E. Housman . 167 The Spirit's Warfare To find the Western path , Right through the Gates of Wrath I urge my way ; Sweet Mercy leads me on With soft repentant moan : I see the break of day . The war of swords and spears , Melted by ...
... A. E. Housman . 167 The Spirit's Warfare To find the Western path , Right through the Gates of Wrath I urge my way ; Sweet Mercy leads me on With soft repentant moan : I see the break of day . The war of swords and spears , Melted by ...
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Expressions et termes fréquents
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
Fréquemment cités
Page 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!
Page 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?
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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?
Page 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...
Page 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
Page 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!
Page 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.