Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
angels Annabel Lee arms asked balance wheel beautiful beneath Bill bless Boy George breath captain's gig child cold cousin Sally Dilliard cried dark dead dear death Deborah Lee door Dora Douglas Jerrold dream earth eyes face father fear feel feet flowers frog girl give glory gone grave hand happy head hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour kiss lady light lips live look Lord Miss morning mother neath NELLIE never night o'er once passed poor portmanteau pray prayer R. B. Sheridan round shine sigh smile sorrow soul speak spirit stand star stood sure sweet tears tell thee there's thing thou thought to-day told turned Twas twill voice W. S. Gilbert wife wild word young
Pàgina 122 - But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
Pàgina 123 - Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Pàgina 122 - The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me ; Yes ! — that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Pàgina 70 - IT was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
Pàgina 105 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Pàgina 78 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...