The New Poetical ReaderJohn Charles Curtis 1872 - 160 pàgines |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 25.
Pàgina vii
... HILL . THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW Sir F. H. Doyle S. T. Coleridge P. B. Shelley D. F. Macarthy P. B. Marston R. C. Trench P. B. Shelley . Lord Lytton Page 80 • 81 · • 83 • 83 87 9Q • Miss C. Rossetti • 222 92 94 94 H. Smith 95 P. B. Shelley ...
... HILL . THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW Sir F. H. Doyle S. T. Coleridge P. B. Shelley D. F. Macarthy P. B. Marston R. C. Trench P. B. Shelley . Lord Lytton Page 80 • 81 · • 83 • 83 87 9Q • Miss C. Rossetti • 222 92 94 94 H. Smith 95 P. B. Shelley ...
Pàgina 16
... hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break , break , break , At the foot of thy crags , O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me . THE SANDS OF DEE ...
... hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break , break , break , At the foot of thy crags , O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me . THE SANDS OF DEE ...
Pàgina 24
... hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off and near . Though babbling only to the vale Of sunshine and of flowers ; Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! E'en yet thou art to me ...
... hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off and near . Though babbling only to the vale Of sunshine and of flowers ; Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! E'en yet thou art to me ...
Pàgina 28
... hills Open their thousand leaves ; So without sound of music , Or voice of them that wept , Silently down from the mountain's crown , The great procession swept . Perchance the bald old eagle , On grey Beth - Peor's height , Out of his ...
... hills Open their thousand leaves ; So without sound of music , Or voice of them that wept , Silently down from the mountain's crown , The great procession swept . Perchance the bald old eagle , On grey Beth - Peor's height , Out of his ...
Pàgina 29
... hill - side for a pall , To lie in state , while angels wait With stars for tapers tall , And the dark rock - pines ... hills he never trod , And speak of the strife , that won our life , With the Incarnate Son of God . O lonely grave in ...
... hill - side for a pall , To lie in state , while angels wait With stars for tapers tall , And the dark rock - pines ... hills he never trod , And speak of the strife , that won our life , With the Incarnate Son of God . O lonely grave in ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
Angel arms bear beneath blood brave breath bright child Church cloud crown dark dead dear death deep died dream earth England eyes face fair fall fear feel feet field flower give grace grave green hall hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope keep King land late leaves light living look Lord lost meet morning mother mountain Nature ne'er never night o'er once pass past play rain rest rise rock roll rose round shine shore sight silence sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stone stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thunder Till trees turned voice watch wave weep wild wind
Passatges populars
Pàgina 136 - Julius bleed for justice' sake ? What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
Pàgina 93 - Ye Ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain — Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo,...
Pàgina 138 - I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus...
Pàgina 92 - Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the Vale ! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink...
Pàgina 24 - That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing 1 And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
Pàgina 109 - — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Pàgina 105 - Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn.
Pàgina 107 - I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew ; "Speed...
Pàgina 122 - The sun was gone now ; the curled moon Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf ; and now She spoke through the still weather. Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.
Pàgina 70 - OH, TO BE in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England - now...