The Golden Treasury of Irish Songs and Lyrics, Volum 1Charles Welsh Dodge publishing Company, 1907 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 63.
Pàgina 2
... 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 gray Beth - Peor's height , Out of his lonely eyrie , looked on ...
... 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 gray Beth - Peor's height , Out of his lonely eyrie , looked on ...
Pàgina 5
... leave the pin beneath the latch ; If some one push the door , Across my broken dreams I'll hear His footstep on the floor . " She crouched within the ingle nook , She spread her fingers sere , Her failed eyes had a far - off look ...
... leave the pin beneath the latch ; If some one push the door , Across my broken dreams I'll hear His footstep on the floor . " She crouched within the ingle nook , She spread her fingers sere , Her failed eyes had a far - off look ...
Pàgina 19
... leaves were falling . " Is our road perchance the same ? Might we travel on together ? " " Oh , I keep the mountainside , " she replied , " among the heather . " " Your mountain air is sweet when the days are long and sunny , When the ...
... leaves were falling . " Is our road perchance the same ? Might we travel on together ? " " Oh , I keep the mountainside , " she replied , " among the heather . " " Your mountain air is sweet when the days are long and sunny , When the ...
Pàgina 28
... leaves , Watching till she wake . By the craggy hillside , Through the mosses bare , They have planted thorn - trees , For pleasure here and there . Is any man so daring As dig them up in spite , He shall find their sharpest thorns In ...
... leaves , Watching till she wake . By the craggy hillside , Through the mosses bare , They have planted thorn - trees , For pleasure here and there . Is any man so daring As dig them up in spite , He shall find their sharpest thorns In ...
Pàgina 38
... leave my warm heart with you , tho ' my back I'm forced to turn So adieu to Belashanny , and the winding banks of Erne ! II No more on pleasant evenings we'll saunter down the Mall , When the trout is rising to the fly , the salmon to ...
... leave my warm heart with you , tho ' my back I'm forced to turn So adieu to Belashanny , and the winding banks of Erne ! II No more on pleasant evenings we'll saunter down the Mall , When the trout is rising to the fly , the salmon to ...
Continguts
257 | |
275 | |
287 | |
311 | |
330 | |
333 | |
345 | |
351 | |
92 | |
105 | |
114 | |
121 | |
124 | |
131 | |
143 | |
151 | |
157 | |
163 | |
173 | |
184 | |
191 | |
198 | |
207 | |
223 | |
229 | |
236 | |
244 | |
360 | |
369 | |
372 | |
382 | |
389 | |
396 | |
407 | |
414 | |
426 | |
435 | |
442 | |
449 | |
458 | |
459 | |
466 | |
477 | |
484 | |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
Ballylesson Bawn Bay of Biscay beauty blessed blood bloom blow blue bosom brave breast breath bright brow Caoch cheek Connacht dark dead dear death deep Douglas Hyde dream earth Eileen aroon Erin eyes fair fairy flowers Fontenoy forever girl glen Glen of Aherlow glow gold golden Gougane Barra grave gray green grief hair hand hath heart heaven hills Innisfail Innishowen Ireland Irish Irish poetry kiss land light lonely look lover Machree maiden morning mother mountain ne'er never Newtownbreda night o'er Ossian pale Rapparees rose round shamrock shining shore sigh sing sleep smile soft Soggarth aroon song sorrow soul star STEPHEN LUCIUS GWYNN STOPFORD AUGUSTUS BROOKE summer sweet sword tears tell thee there's thine thou thrush Twas voice wandering wave weary wild wind wood young youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 13 - We may not know, we cannot tell, what pains he had to bear, but we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there.
Pàgina 360 - Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Pàgina 366 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Pàgina 364 - I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. And there, forlorn, despairing, hid, I'll lay me down and die: 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I.
Pàgina 120 - Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir, Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle.
Pàgina 64 - In happy climes, where from the genial sun, And virgin earth such scenes ensue, The force of art by nature seems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true...
Pàgina 28 - He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.
Pàgina 45 - Oh — no! I wish I were a Robin. A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go; Through forest, field or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till winter comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing!
Pàgina 359 - When she has walk'd before. But now, her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead, — Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent Street well may say, That had she lived a twelvemonth more — She had not died to-day.
Pàgina 259 - The corn was springin' fresh and green, And the lark sang loud and high — And the red was on your lip, Mary, And the love-light in your eye. The place is little changed, Mary, The day is bright as then, The lark's loud song is in my ear, And the corn is green again ; But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, And your breath, warm on my cheek, And I still keep list'nin' for the words You never more may speak.