ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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appear arms beautiful bells called carried church close clouds dark death deep direction distance earth England English eyes face fall fear feeling feet field fire follow French give green half hand head hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope horse hour island Italy kind king land Latin length light lists living look Lord means meet miles mind morning mountains nature never night noble observed once passed person present remained rest rise river rock rolling round seemed seen ship side sometimes sound spirit stands stream sweet thou thought town trees turned village voice walls waves whole wild wind young
الصفحة 105 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer, I worshipped the Invisible alone.
الصفحة 274 - A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
الصفحة 61 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
الصفحة 317 - O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what ! weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
الصفحة 314 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
الصفحة 132 - Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away! This way, this way! Call her once before you go— Call once yet! In a voice that she will know:
الصفحة 19 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played : Their thoughts I cannot measure : — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air ; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there.
الصفحة 108 - 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, God...
الصفحة 49 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
الصفحة 196 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest. Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...