Pearls from the poets: specimens selected, with biogr. notes, by H.W. DulckenHenry William Dulcken 1860 |
מתוך הספר
תוצאות 1-5 מתוך 28
עמוד 11
... breath did freeze , And the dull drops that from his purpled bill As from a limbeck did adown distil ; In his right hand a tippéd staff he held , With which his feeble steps he stayed still , For he was faint with cold and weak with eld ...
... breath did freeze , And the dull drops that from his purpled bill As from a limbeck did adown distil ; In his right hand a tippéd staff he held , With which his feeble steps he stayed still , For he was faint with cold and weak with eld ...
עמוד 18
... breath , And orbs of beauty and spheres of flame From the void abyss by myriads came- In the joy of youth as they darted away , Through the widening wastes of space to play , Their silver voices in chorus rang , And this was the song ...
... breath , And orbs of beauty and spheres of flame From the void abyss by myriads came- In the joy of youth as they darted away , Through the widening wastes of space to play , Their silver voices in chorus rang , And this was the song ...
עמוד 20
... breathing myriads are breaking from night , To rejoice , like us , in motion and light . Glide on in your beauty , ye youthful spheres ! To weave the dance that measures the Glide on in the glory and gladness sent To the farthest wall ...
... breathing myriads are breaking from night , To rejoice , like us , in motion and light . Glide on in your beauty , ye youthful spheres ! To weave the dance that measures the Glide on in the glory and gladness sent To the farthest wall ...
עמוד 22
... breath , And feels its life in every limb , What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old , she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head . She had a rustic ...
... breath , And feels its life in every limb , What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old , she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head . She had a rustic ...
עמוד 30
... breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian , Whose portal we call Death . She is not dead - the child of our affection- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection , As Christ himself doth rule . In that ...
... breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian , Whose portal we call Death . She is not dead - the child of our affection- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection , As Christ himself doth rule . In that ...
מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל
מונחים וביטויים נפוצים
battle beauty beneath blow born breath bright busy charm cheerful child clouds cold COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD dark dead death deep delight died dreadful earth ELEGY WRITTEN eyes face fair fall fame feel field fire flowers gone grace grave green hand hast head hear heard heart heaven hills Honour hope hour Italy laid land leaves light live look Lord loud Mary meet mind moon morn mother mountain Nature ne'er never night o'er poems poet poor praise pride rage rest rise Robin Hood round seen side silent sing sleep smile soft song soothe soul sound spirit star stormy sweet tears thee things thou thou art thought true village voice waves wild winds woods young youth
קטעים בולטים
עמוד 55 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower...
עמוד 137 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells — Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
עמוד 14 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
עמוד 156 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
עמוד 27 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
עמוד 115 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
עמוד 138 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; 'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?' I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly: thousands...
עמוד 22 - She had a rustic, woodlai.d air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
עמוד 121 - WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones ? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
עמוד 56 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.