QuŔ en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Half-hours with the best authors, selected by C. Knight, Volum 4
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1847
Half-hours with the best authors, selected by C. Knight, Volum 2
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1847
Half-hours with the best authors, selected by C. Knight, Volum 1
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1856
affection animal appear authority beauty blessing body Border called character Christian comes common course danger darkness dead death delight desire earth England English eyes fall fear feel give ground hand happy hath head heart heaven honour hope human hundred interest Italy John keep kind land learning leave less light living look Lord manner master means mind moral nature never night object observed once pass perhaps person pleasure poet poor present produce reason received remained respect rest Robin Robin Hood seems seen sense ship side soon soul spirit suffer sweet taste thee things thou thought true truth turn virtue whole wind
PÓgina 116 - Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year...
PÓgina 32 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
PÓgina 31 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
PÓgina 57 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
PÓgina 57 - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky.
PÓgina 59 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
PÓgina 156 - Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
PÓgina 56 - There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye! — A weary time! a weary time How glazed each weary eye! When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist — A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!