The Laurel and Lyre. Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyFrederick Warne and Company, 1879 - 400 pàgines |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 44.
Pàgina 3
... shore , That lies until the morning brings Searchings , and shrieks , and sorrowings ; Or haply , to all eyes unknown , Is borne away without a groan , On a chance plank , ' mid joyful cries Of birds that pierce the sunny skies With ...
... shore , That lies until the morning brings Searchings , and shrieks , and sorrowings ; Or haply , to all eyes unknown , Is borne away without a groan , On a chance plank , ' mid joyful cries Of birds that pierce the sunny skies With ...
Pàgina 8
... shore , Softening sweet the billowy roar ; For bold and fair in every weather , The sea - mews shrill now flock together , Or wheeling off in lonely play , Carry their pastimes far away To little isles and rocks of rest , Scatter'd o'er ...
... shore , Softening sweet the billowy roar ; For bold and fair in every weather , The sea - mews shrill now flock together , Or wheeling off in lonely play , Carry their pastimes far away To little isles and rocks of rest , Scatter'd o'er ...
Pàgina 15
... shore is man's , the waves are free- The sea , the sea for me ! I was a child when first I laid My bosom on its foam , And all my youthful years I made Its shores and rocks my home ; I dash'd among its breakers white , And breathed ...
... shore is man's , the waves are free- The sea , the sea for me ! I was a child when first I laid My bosom on its foam , And all my youthful years I made Its shores and rocks my home ; I dash'd among its breakers white , And breathed ...
Pàgina 17
... shore , Ere two short hours of chase are o'er . " And now the swelling sails are set , And stiffly catch the rising gale , As , gliding o'er that ocean , yet Aloof the rival vessels sail ; - B 17 And now the gallant foes are met ; No heart.
... shore , Ere two short hours of chase are o'er . " And now the swelling sails are set , And stiffly catch the rising gale , As , gliding o'er that ocean , yet Aloof the rival vessels sail ; - B 17 And now the gallant foes are met ; No heart.
Pàgina 18
... shore ; — But still that triumph and that scene No unmix'd smile of pleasure wore , For many a seaman found his grave In that becalm'd Atlantic wave . As loud they shout from either bow , " What 18 The Laurel and Lyre .
... shore ; — But still that triumph and that scene No unmix'd smile of pleasure wore , For many a seaman found his grave In that becalm'd Atlantic wave . As loud they shout from either bow , " What 18 The Laurel and Lyre .
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Laurel and Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth Century Alaric Alexander Watts Visualització completa - 1867 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
91 Lines ALARIC ALLAN CUNNINGHAM BARRY CORNWALL beauty beneath bird bless'd bloom bosom breast breath bright brow call'd CAROLINE BOWLES cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep dream earth Eugene Aram face fade fair Farewell fear feel flowers gaze gentle gleam glory grave green grief hath heard heart heaven Here's hope hour JOHN KEATS kiss lady life's light lips lonely look look'd LORD BYRON lute lyre Mermaid Tavern MISS LANDON Mont Blanc morning mother ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd pride redundant song rock rose round seem'd shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star storm stream summer sweet tears thee thine THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tomb tree Twas voice wallflower wandering wave weep wild wild dance wind wings youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 70 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Pàgina 69 - Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Pàgina 333 - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France ! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Pàgina 70 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down : The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn ; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Pàgina 176 - I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story...
Pàgina 69 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Pàgina 71 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
Pàgina 40 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
Pàgina 27 - The Usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain, Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again; And down he sat beside the lad, And talked with him of Cain; And, long since then, of bloody men, Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves...
Pàgina 379 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow.