Little Classics: Poems, lyricalRossiter Johnson J.R. Osgood, 1877 |
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الصفحة 20
... hath not set . Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my fancy yet . Howsoever these things be , a long farewell to Locksley Hall ! Now for me the woods may wither , now for me the roof- tree fall . Comes a vapor from the margin ...
... hath not set . Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my fancy yet . Howsoever these things be , a long farewell to Locksley Hall ! Now for me the woods may wither , now for me the roof- tree fall . Comes a vapor from the margin ...
الصفحة 30
... hath given laughter : but tears to some men he hath given : He bade us sow in tears , hereafter to harvest holier smiles in heaven : And tears and smiles , they are his gift : both good , to smite or to uplift . He knows his sheep : the ...
... hath given laughter : but tears to some men he hath given : He bade us sow in tears , hereafter to harvest holier smiles in heaven : And tears and smiles , they are his gift : both good , to smite or to uplift . He knows his sheep : the ...
الصفحة 33
... hath been one search for thee ' mid thorns found red with thy dear blood : In many a dark Gethsemane I seemed to stand where thou hadst stood : And , scorned in this world's judgment - place , at times , through tears , to catch thy ...
... hath been one search for thee ' mid thorns found red with thy dear blood : In many a dark Gethsemane I seemed to stand where thou hadst stood : And , scorned in this world's judgment - place , at times , through tears , to catch thy ...
الصفحة 47
... Hath not the dear little hand a tongue , When it stirs on my palm for the love of me ? Do I not know she is pretty and young ? Hath not my soul an eye to see ? ' T is pleasure to make one's bosom stir , To wonder how things appear to ...
... Hath not the dear little hand a tongue , When it stirs on my palm for the love of me ? Do I not know she is pretty and young ? Hath not my soul an eye to see ? ' T is pleasure to make one's bosom stir , To wonder how things appear to ...
الصفحة 54
... sheeted ghosts go by ! My love she sleeps ! O may her sleep , As it is lasting , so be deep ! Far in a forest dim and old , For her may some tall vault unfold , Some vault that oft hath flung its black And winged 54 LITTLE CLASSICS .
... sheeted ghosts go by ! My love she sleeps ! O may her sleep , As it is lasting , so be deep ! Far in a forest dim and old , For her may some tall vault unfold , Some vault that oft hath flung its black And winged 54 LITTLE CLASSICS .
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ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath hear heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JEANIE MORRISON JOHN MILTON kiss let us gang life's light live Lochiel LOCKSLEY HALL long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn murmuring nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shining shore sigh silent sing smiles song soul sound spring sweet tears thee thine things THOMAS BUCHANAN READ thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY WILLIAM MOTHERWELL WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind youth are long
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الصفحة 65 - new pleasures, Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim and daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide. Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some
الصفحة 68 - self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heapt Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regained Eurydice. These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live. IL PENSEROSO. BY JOHN MILTON.
الصفحة 107 - nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of Joy and Love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. Now, Lyeidas, the shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the
الصفحة 90 - Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Forbade to wade through
الصفحة 106 - your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky; So Lyeidas
الصفحة 69 - train. But hail, thou goddess sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore, to our weaker view, O'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue,—. Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her
الصفحة 73 - Or ushered with a shower still When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, Where the
الصفحة 139 - Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And while he heaven and earth defied, Changed his hand, and cheeked his pride. He chose a mournful
الصفحة 91 - Tor who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; For thee, who, mindful of the
الصفحة 121 - each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three parts pain ! Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grndge the throe! For thence — a paradox Which comforts while it mocks — Shall