A Thousand and One Gems of English and American Poetry from Chaucer to Tennyson: Chronologically ArrangedEdwin O. Chapman Crowell, 1884 - 399 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 11
... weep , If thou wake he cannot sleep : Thus , of every grief in heart He with thee doth bear a part . These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe . Richard Barnfield SWEET IS THE ROSE . SWEET is the rose , A ...
... weep , If thou wake he cannot sleep : Thus , of every grief in heart He with thee doth bear a part . These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe . Richard Barnfield SWEET IS THE ROSE . SWEET is the rose , A ...
الصفحة 14
... WEEP NO MORE . WEEP no more , nor sigh 14 A THOUSAND AND ONE GEMS . Yet arms till that time did he never wield; ...
... WEEP NO MORE . WEEP no more , nor sigh 14 A THOUSAND AND ONE GEMS . Yet arms till that time did he never wield; ...
الصفحة 15
Chronologically Arranged Edwin O. Chapman. WEEP NO MORE . WEEP no more , nor sigh , nor groan , Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked , the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; - Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ...
Chronologically Arranged Edwin O. Chapman. WEEP NO MORE . WEEP no more , nor sigh , nor groan , Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked , the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; - Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ...
الصفحة 35
... weep ; Be still , my dear ; sweet baby , sleep . Thou blessed soul , what canst thou fear ? What thing to thee can mischief do ? Thy God is now thy father dear , His holy Spouse thy mother too . Sweet baby , then forebear to weep ; Be ...
... weep ; Be still , my dear ; sweet baby , sleep . Thou blessed soul , what canst thou fear ? What thing to thee can mischief do ? Thy God is now thy father dear , His holy Spouse thy mother too . Sweet baby , then forebear to weep ; Be ...
الصفحة 40
... weep thy fall , to - night ; For thou must die . Sweet Rose , whose hue , angry and brave , Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye , Thy root is ever in its grave , And thou must die . Sweet Spring , full of sweet days and roses , 40 A ...
... weep thy fall , to - night ; For thou must die . Sweet Rose , whose hue , angry and brave , Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye , Thy root is ever in its grave , And thou must die . Sweet Spring , full of sweet days and roses , 40 A ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Alexander Pope angel beauty bells beneath bless bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright cheek child clouds dark dead dear death delight doth dream e'er earth Ebenezer Elliott eternal eyes fair fear flowers gentle gilt glory grace grave green grief Half calf hame happy hast hath hear heart heaven Henry Kirke White hill hope hour James John John Milton King land light live look Lord Byron mind morn mortal ne'er never night o'er pain pale peace Percy Bysshe Shelley pleasure pride Robert Burns Robert Southey rose round shade shine sigh sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring star sweet tears thee thine Thomas Campbell Thomas Moore thou art thought tree Twas vale voice wave weary weep wild William Cowper William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind wings Wordsworth youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 15 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
الصفحة 386 - I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my ANNABEL LEE; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea...
الصفحة 70 - Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread. My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still : Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade.
الصفحة 308 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death...
الصفحة 29 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
الصفحة 83 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given.
الصفحة 308 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
الصفحة 351 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; — They shook the depths of the desert's gloom, With their hymns of lofty cheer.
الصفحة 42 - 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 lost but once your prime, You may...
الصفحة 30 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!