The Poems of S.T. ColeridgeWilliam Pickering, 1848 - 372 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة xii
... poor Heart ! " ... XII . To the Author of the " Robbers Lines , composed while climbing Brockley Coomb Lines in the manner of Spencer Imitated from Ossian 42 ... 43 43 ... 44 45 Imitated from the Welsh The Complaint of Ninathoma Casimir ...
... poor Heart ! " ... XII . To the Author of the " Robbers Lines , composed while climbing Brockley Coomb Lines in the manner of Spencer Imitated from Ossian 42 ... 43 43 ... 44 45 Imitated from the Welsh The Complaint of Ninathoma Casimir ...
الصفحة 4
... poor Child ! Home , weary Truant , home ! Thee , Chatterton ! these unblest stones protect From want , and the bleak freezings of neglect . Too long before the vexing Storm - blast driven Here hast thou found repose ! beneath this sod ...
... poor Child ! Home , weary Truant , home ! Thee , Chatterton ! these unblest stones protect From want , and the bleak freezings of neglect . Too long before the vexing Storm - blast driven Here hast thou found repose ! beneath this sod ...
الصفحة 8
... Poor Chatterton ! he sorrows for thy fate Who would have praised and loved thee , ere too late . Poor Chatterton ! farewell ! of darkest hues This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb ; But dare no longer on the sad theme muse , Lest ...
... Poor Chatterton ! he sorrows for thy fate Who would have praised and loved thee , ere too late . Poor Chatterton ! farewell ! of darkest hues This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb ; But dare no longer on the sad theme muse , Lest ...
الصفحة 14
... poor Raven's own His young ones were killed ; for they could not depart , And their mother did die of a broken heart . The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever ; And they floated it down on the course of the river . They sawed it ...
... poor Raven's own His young ones were killed ; for they could not depart , And their mother did die of a broken heart . The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever ; And they floated it down on the course of the river . They sawed it ...
الصفحة 26
... POOR I love the languid Patience of thy face : And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread , And clap thy ragged Coat , and pat thy head . But what thy dulled Spirits hath dismayed , That never thou dost sport along the glade ? And ...
... POOR I love the languid Patience of thy face : And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread , And clap thy ragged Coat , and pat thy head . But what thy dulled Spirits hath dismayed , That never thou dost sport along the glade ? And ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Albatross amid Antistrophe arms babe Bard beneath blessed blest bower breast breath breeze bright bright eyes calm cheek child Christabel cloud dance dark Dark Ladie dear deep doth dream earth fair fancy fear feel flowers gazed gentle Geraldine green groan hath hear heard heart heave Heaven HEXAMETER holy hope hour Jeremy Taylor KUBLA KHAN lady land of mist light limbs listen look loud maid meek melancholy mind moon mother murmur muse ne'er Nether Stowey night o'er pain pang Pixies poem prayed rock Roland de Vaux rose round S. T. COLERIDGE ship sigh silent sing Sir Leoline Slau sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound spake spirit stars stept stood strange stream sweet swelling tale tears thee thine things thou thought toil trembling twas voice ween wild wind wing youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 111 - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
الصفحة 235 - Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning!
الصفحة 234 - The loud wind never reached the ship, Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan. They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman...
الصفحة 190 - But now afflictions bow me down to earth : Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth, But oh ! each visitation Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, My shaping spirit of Imagination.
الصفحة 144 - Awake, Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my Heart, awake! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn. Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the Vale ! () struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars...
الصفحة 159 - Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun...
الصفحة 227 - There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. "At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist.
الصفحة 225 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
الصفحة 232 - O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blessed them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blessed them unaware. "The selfsame moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea.
الصفحة 231 - The cold sweat melted from their limbs. Nor rot nor reek did they: The look with which they looked on me Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high; But oh! more horrible than that Is a curse in a dead man's eye! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse. And yet I could not die.