The Golden Pomp: A Procession of English Lyrics from Surrey to Shirley

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Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
Methuen, 1905 - 382 من الصفحات
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الصفحة 271 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
الصفحة 35 - Philomel with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby. Never harm Nor spell nor charm Come our lovely lady nigh. So good night, with lullaby.
الصفحة 22 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds, of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight ; The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he :Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
الصفحة 19 - Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower...
الصفحة 114 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights ; And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; — Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
الصفحة 142 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
الصفحة 15 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For, having...
الصفحة 241 - And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white, When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow ; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
الصفحة 189 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments, love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
الصفحة 160 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung : as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.

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