Poems, Volume 2Hilliard, Gray, 1827 |
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Pagina 4
... sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ! —yet whither ? —I must bear A yearning heart within me to the grave . I am of those o'er ...
... sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ! —yet whither ? —I must bear A yearning heart within me to the grave . I am of those o'er ...
Pagina 6
... sounds are not of this ! -I hear the shiver Of the green reeds , and all the rustlings , borne From the high forest , when the light leaves quiver : Their sounds are not of this ! —the cedars , waving , Lend it no tone : His wide ...
... sounds are not of this ! -I hear the shiver Of the green reeds , and all the rustlings , borne From the high forest , when the light leaves quiver : Their sounds are not of this ! —the cedars , waving , Lend it no tone : His wide ...
Pagina 9
... sounds are on the rocks — that I might hear Once more the music of the mountaineer ! — And from the sunny vales the shepherd's strain Floats out , and fills the solitary place With the old tuneful names of Spain's heroic race . XIII ...
... sounds are on the rocks — that I might hear Once more the music of the mountaineer ! — And from the sunny vales the shepherd's strain Floats out , and fills the solitary place With the old tuneful names of Spain's heroic race . XIII ...
Pagina 10
... sounds of thickening steps , like thunder - rain , That plashes on the roof of some vast echoing fane ! XV . What pageant's hour approach'd ? —The sullen gate Of a strong ancient prison - house was thrown Back to the day . And who , in ...
... sounds of thickening steps , like thunder - rain , That plashes on the roof of some vast echoing fane ! XV . What pageant's hour approach'd ? —The sullen gate Of a strong ancient prison - house was thrown Back to the day . And who , in ...
Pagina 17
... sound of water- And Alvar bending o'er me - from the night Covering me with his mantle ! -all the past Flow'd back - my soul's far chords all answer'd to the blast . XXX . Till , in that rush of visions , 3 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 17.
... sound of water- And Alvar bending o'er me - from the night Covering me with his mantle ! -all the past Flow'd back - my soul's far chords all answer'd to the blast . XXX . Till , in that rush of visions , 3 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 17.
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
ancient art thou beautiful bended Bow bless'd blue streams bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land Bring flowers brow burst call'd dark death deep didst dreams dust dwell earth England's dead ev'n fade faint fair fair brow falchion farewell fear fled floating fount gaze glance gleam gloom glow grave hath hear heard heart Heaven hour house of sleep hush'd joyous Lake of Lucerne land leave light lips lone look look'd lyre midst mighty mirth Moorish mournful night Odin Oronoco pale pass'd pine pour'd rest rills Rio verde round Sea-king seas seem'd shades shadows shining shore sigh silent sleep slumber smile soft soft eyes song soul sound Spain spears spirit spring stars stood storm streams sweet sword tears thee Theseus thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone voice wave weep wild wind woods wouldst thou young
Populaire passages
Pagina 190 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long, The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own. To thee the love of woman hath gone down, Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her...
Pagina 231 - midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer — farewell, farewell ! The summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn '. For me, I depart to a brighter shore, Ye are mark'd by care, ye are mine no more. I go where the loved who have left you dwell, And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye well, farewell ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Pagina 91 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Pagina 225 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away ; Mother, with thine earnest eye, Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Call'd thy harvest work to leave — Pray : ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Pagina 97 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Pagina 225 - Traveller, in the stranger's land, Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath, not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea — Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Pagina 146 - Amidst the knightly ring: A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep — He never smiled again. Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd, And strangers took the kinsman's...
Pagina 100 - Anon some wilder portraiture he draws ; Of Nature's savage glories he would speak, — The loneliness of earth that overawes, — Where, resting by some tomb of old Cacique, The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak Nor...
Pagina 98 - In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend from whom we have long been separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.
Pagina 146 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? He never smiled again ! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one...