Poetical Works, المجلد 2Ticknor and Fields, 1861 |
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الصفحة 11
... horse . O , what to her shall be the end ? And what to me remains of good ? To her , perpetual maidenhood , And unto me , no second friend . VII . DARK house , by which once more I stand , Here in the long unlovely street , Doors ...
... horse . O , what to her shall be the end ? And what to me remains of good ? To her , perpetual maidenhood , And unto me , no second friend . VII . DARK house , by which once more I stand , Here in the long unlovely street , Doors ...
الصفحة 45
... joy , But lives to wed an equal mind ; And breathes a novel world , the while His other passion wholly dies , Or in the light of deeper eyes Is matter for a flying smile . LXII . YET pity for a horse o'erdriven , And IN MEMORIAM . 45.
... joy , But lives to wed an equal mind ; And breathes a novel world , the while His other passion wholly dies , Or in the light of deeper eyes Is matter for a flying smile . LXII . YET pity for a horse o'erdriven , And IN MEMORIAM . 45.
الصفحة 46
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. LXII . YET pity for a horse o'erdriven , And love in which my hound has part , Can hang no weight upon my heart , In its assumptions up to heaven ; And I am so much more than these , As thou , perchance ...
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. LXII . YET pity for a horse o'erdriven , And love in which my hound has part , Can hang no weight upon my heart , In its assumptions up to heaven ; And I am so much more than these , As thou , perchance ...
الصفحة 102
... But they must go ; the time draws on , And those white - favored horses wait ; They rise , but linger , it is late ; Farewell , we kiss , and they are gone . A shade falls on us like the dark From little 102 IN MEMORIAM .
... But they must go ; the time draws on , And those white - favored horses wait ; They rise , but linger , it is late ; Farewell , we kiss , and they are gone . A shade falls on us like the dark From little 102 IN MEMORIAM .
الصفحة 124
... horse at the door , And little King Charles is snarling , Go back , my lord , across the moor , You are not her darling . XIII . 1 . SCORN'D , to be scorn'd by one that I scorn , Is that a matter to make me fret ? That a calamity hard ...
... horse at the door , And little King Charles is snarling , Go back , my lord , across the moor , You are not her darling . XIII . 1 . SCORN'D , to be scorn'd by one that I scorn , Is that a matter to make me fret ? That a calamity hard ...
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50 cents 75 cents answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child Cloth court cried dark dead dear death diamond Doorm dream Dubric Earl earth Edyrn Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear flower FUREIDIS Gawain Geraint gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy hear heard heart Heaven horse hour jousts King knew knight land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look look'd lord maid maiden Maud Merlin Modred morn moving never noble o'er once passion peace POEMS poison'd Prince Queen rest Ring rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star sweet Table Round thee thine things thou thought thro true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wood word wrought
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 41 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
الصفحة 6 - We have but faith: we cannot know, For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow. > Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
الصفحة 95 - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
الصفحة 37 - That each, who seems a separate whole, Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet. Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside; And I shall know him when we meet; And we shall sit at endless feast, Enjoying each the other's good.
الصفحة 139 - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near;' And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;' The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;' And the lily whispers, 'I wait.
الصفحة 52 - So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to be, How know I what had need of thee, For thou wert strong as thou wert true ? The fame is quench'd that I foresaw, The head hath miss'd an earthly wreath: I curse not nature, no, nor death; For nothing is that errs from law.
الصفحة 82 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
الصفحة 7 - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
الصفحة 58 - I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and face; No lower life that earth's embrace May breed with him, can fright my faith. Eternal process moving on, From state to state the spirit walks; And these are but the shatter'd stalks, Or ruin'd chrysalis of one.
الصفحة 28 - Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears.