Favourite English poems and poets1870 - 672 pages |
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Page 20
... thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame . And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus , That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among : And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ...
... thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame . And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus , That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among : And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ...
Page 21
... The painful patience in delays , Forget not yet ! Forget not ! O , forget not this , How long ago hath been , and is The mind that never meant amiss- Forget not yet ! Forget not then thine own approved The which so long hath thee so ...
... The painful patience in delays , Forget not yet ! Forget not ! O , forget not this , How long ago hath been , and is The mind that never meant amiss- Forget not yet ! Forget not then thine own approved The which so long hath thee so ...
Page 56
... thee , Ruthless bears , they will not cheer thee : King Pandion he is dead ; All thy friends are lapp'd in lead ; All thy fellow - birds do sing , Careless of thy sorrowing ! Whilst as fickle Fortune smil'd , Thou and I were both beguil ...
... thee , Ruthless bears , they will not cheer thee : King Pandion he is dead ; All thy friends are lapp'd in lead ; All thy fellow - birds do sing , Careless of thy sorrowing ! Whilst as fickle Fortune smil'd , Thou and I were both beguil ...
Page 57
... the rocks , Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks , By shallow rivers , to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals . And I will make thee beds of roses , And. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE . SOME GLORY IN THEIR BIRTH . 57 ...
... the rocks , Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks , By shallow rivers , to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals . And I will make thee beds of roses , And. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE . SOME GLORY IN THEIR BIRTH . 57 ...
Page 58
... the finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold , With buckles of the purest gold : A belt of straw and ivy buds , With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move , Come ...
... the finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold , With buckles of the purest gold : A belt of straw and ivy buds , With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move , Come ...
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Expressions et termes fréquents
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
Fréquemment cités
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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,
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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 ;...