Little Classics: Poems, lyricalRossiter Johnson J.R. Osgood, 1875 |
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الصفحة 11
... lying , hidden from the heart's disgrace , Rolled in one another's arms , and silent in a last embrace . Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth ! Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth ...
... lying , hidden from the heart's disgrace , Rolled in one another's arms , and silent in a last embrace . Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth ! Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth ...
الصفحة 18
... lying in dark - purple spheres of sea . There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind , In the steamship , in the railway , in the thoughts that shake mankind . There the passions cramped no longer shall have scope ...
... lying in dark - purple spheres of sea . There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind , In the steamship , in the railway , in the thoughts that shake mankind . There the passions cramped no longer shall have scope ...
الصفحة 27
... lie ! a lie ! She broke my heart , and flung it by ! A life's libation lifted up , from her proud lip she dashed untasted : There trampled lay love's costly cup , and in the dust the wine was wasted . She knew I could not pour such wine ...
... lie ! a lie ! She broke my heart , and flung it by ! A life's libation lifted up , from her proud lip she dashed untasted : There trampled lay love's costly cup , and in the dust the wine was wasted . She knew I could not pour such wine ...
الصفحة 39
... Lies she soft on the waves at rest . The desert heavens have felt her sadness ; Her earth will weep her some dewy tears ; The wild beck ends her tune of gladness , And goeth stilly as soul that fears . We two walk on in our grassy ...
... Lies she soft on the waves at rest . The desert heavens have felt her sadness ; Her earth will weep her some dewy tears ; The wild beck ends her tune of gladness , And goeth stilly as soul that fears . We two walk on in our grassy ...
الصفحة 53
... lies ( Her casement open to the skies ) Irene with her destinies ! O lady bright , can it be right , - This window open to the night ? The wanton airs , from the tree - top ,. BY EDGAR ALLAN POE . By night or day ,. Edgar Allan.
... lies ( Her casement open to the skies ) Irene with her destinies ! O lady bright , can it be right , - This window open to the night ? The wanton airs , from the tree - top ,. BY EDGAR ALLAN POE . By night or day ,. Edgar Allan.
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright cowslips crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy forever Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JOHN MILTON kiss land let us gang life's light lips live Lochiel Locksley Hall long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn Neath nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain pale flower passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shadows rise shining shore sigh silent sing smile song soul sound spring star sweet tears thee thine things thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave weep Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wind's youth are long
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 109 - For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
الصفحة 78 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
الصفحة 9 - Love took up the glass of time, and turned it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
الصفحة 76 - And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure...
الصفحة 85 - In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a, weary dream.
الصفحة 62 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy!
الصفحة 97 - How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th
الصفحة 17 - Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
الصفحة 69 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
الصفحة 111 - Ay me! I fondly dream — Had ye been there — for what could that have done, What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament...