Pearls from the poets: specimens selected, with biogr. notes, by H.W. DulckenHenry William Dulcken 1860 |
מתוך הספר
תוצאות 1-5 מתוך 13
עמוד 19
... star after star , How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass ! How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass ! 19 20 SONG OF THE STARS . And the path of.
... star after star , How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass ! How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass ! 19 20 SONG OF THE STARS . And the path of.
עמוד 54
... star of heaven In the broad daylight , Thou art unseen , but yet I hear thy shrill delight . Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere , Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear , Until we hardly see , we feel that it is ...
... star of heaven In the broad daylight , Thou art unseen , but yet I hear thy shrill delight . Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere , Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear , Until we hardly see , we feel that it is ...
עמוד 57
... star - like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires : As old Time makes these decay , So his flames must waste away . But a smooth and steadfast mind , Gentle thoughts and calm desires , Hearts with equal love combined , Kindle never ...
... star - like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires : As old Time makes these decay , So his flames must waste away . But a smooth and steadfast mind , Gentle thoughts and calm desires , Hearts with equal love combined , Kindle never ...
עמוד 82
... , are exquisite in their mournful tenderness . The Rev. Charles Wolfe was a curate in Ireland . He died of consumption , at the early age of thirty - two years . ] OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes PAGE CONTENTS PAGE.
... , are exquisite in their mournful tenderness . The Rev. Charles Wolfe was a curate in Ireland . He died of consumption , at the early age of thirty - two years . ] OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes PAGE CONTENTS PAGE.
עמוד 83
Henry William Dulcken. OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with her The flowery May , who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose . Hail , bounteous May , that ...
Henry William Dulcken. OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with her The flowery May , who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose . Hail , bounteous May , that ...
מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל
מונחים וביטויים נפוצים
ALEXANDER POPE battle BATTLE OF WATERLOO beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON Blest born bower breath bright Cam'rons CHARLES LAMB charm cheek cheerful child churchway clouds cold COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD dark dead death deep died dost doth e'en earth EDGAR ALLAN POE ELEGY WRITTEN Elizabethan era EPICEDIUM eyes fair fame fire flowers genius gilded lilies glory grace grave green hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Honour hour light lonely look loud MILTON moon morn mother mother's love mouldering mournful ne'er never night numbers o'er old familiar faces poems poet praise pride reign round sigh silent sing SIR JOHN MOORE Skiddaw sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit star stormy winds Sweet Mary tears thee THOMAS CAMPBELL THOMAS OTWAY thou art thou busy thought tower Twas voice waves weary weep wild winds do blow woods 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.