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" Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. "
The Rhyme and Reason of Country Life, Or, Selections from Fields Old and New - الصفحة 77
بواسطة Susan Fenimore Cooper - 1855 - عدد الصفحات: 428
عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب

The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, المجلد 201

1905 - عدد الصفحات: 606
...love-poet's most perfect rhythm was mingled with its notes as he listened to the song, — ' Thou wert not born for death, Immortal Bird, No hungry generations tread thee down.' Amongst the ripples of every stream he caught echoes of Wordsworth's river sonnets, and whether alone,...

The Edinburgh magazine, and literary miscellany, a new series of ..., المجلد 7

1820 - عدد الصفحات: 596
...thou art pouring forth tby soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have eats in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I heat this passing night, was heard In ancient days by çmperor and clow» : Perhaps the self-same song...

Spirit of the English Magazines, المجلد 10

1821 - عدد الصفحات: 488
...midnight with no pain. While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still won lost thou sing, and I have ears in vain—- To thy high...born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations teead thee down ; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In antient days by emperor and clown...

Time's Telescope for ... ; Or, A Complete Guide to the Almanack

1823 - عدد الصفحات: 400
...no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wonldst thou siug, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become...; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In antient days by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart...

The cabinet; or The selected beauties of literature [ed. by J ..., المجلد 1

Cabinet - 1824 - عدد الصفحات: 440
...upon the midnight with no pain, ' While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy ! Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod. VII. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...

The Every-day Book: Or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports ...

William Hone - 1827 - عدد الصفحات: 858
...cease opon the midnight with no pain, While thou ait pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy 1 Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Г. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...

The Every-day Book and Table Book: Or, Everlasting Calendar of ..., المجلد 2

William Hone - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 868
...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. 7. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...

Abaddon, the Spirit of Destruction: And Other Poems

Sumner Lincoln Fairfield - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 172
...himself. What can be more distinct, beautiful, and true, than this address to the nightingale : — " Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I heard this passing night, was heard In ancient days, by emperor and clown ; Perhaps the self same song...

Abaddon, the Spirit of Destruction: And Other Poems

Sumner Lincoln Fairfield - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 172
...wast not born for death, immortal bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I heard 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...

Classic Tales: Designed for the Instruction and Amusement of Young Persons

1833 - عدد الصفحات: 188
...Keats's sweet description of this poetic warbler. (Her mother gives her a book, and Ann reads.) " Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird ! No hungry...voice I hear this passing night, was heard In ancient clays, by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self same song that found a path Through the sad heart of...




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