A vision of Pengwerne, and other poems

الغلاف الأمامي
John Davies, 1841 - 150 من الصفحات
 

ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة

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مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 67 - Around, the streams their flowery margin kiss ; And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely this. Yes, this is love, the steadfast and the true ; The immortal glory which hath never set; The best, the brightest boon the heart e'er knew, Of all life's sweets the very sweetest yet ! Oh ! who but can recall the eve they met To breathe in some green walk their first young vow.
الصفحة 89 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.
الصفحة 97 - They have but fallen before us: for, one day, we must fall. Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
الصفحة 61 - SWEET scented flower! who art wont to bloom On January's front severe, And o'er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume ! Come, thou...
الصفحة 67 - ... and the true :— The immortal glory which hath never set; The best, the brightest boon the heart e'er knew: Of all life's sweets the very sweetest yet! Oh, who but can recall the eve they met To breathe in some green walk their first young vow Whilst summer flowers with moonlight dews were wet, And winds sighed soft around the mountain's brow,— And all was rapture then, which is but memory now.
الصفحة 146 - I call the dear name of my Joe ; His musical shout is the pride of the wood, And my heart leaps to hear the— Hallo. Simple flowers of the grove, little birds live at ease, I wish not to wander from you ; I'll still dwell beneath the deep roar of your trees, For I know that my Joe will be true. The trill of the robin, the coo of the dove, Are charms that I'll never forego ; But resting through life on the bosom of love, Will remember the Woodland Hallo.
الصفحة 57 - The writer of this Elegy further tells us that ' the sod of Ercall is on the ashes of fierce men of the progeny of Morial': ' Tywar, cen Ercal ar ar dywal Wyr, o edwedd Morial.
الصفحة 55 - Arthur was murdered in the Tower by order of his uncle Richard III.
الصفحة 128 - Blushing cheek and shining hair ; CHILD ! with bright and laughing eye, Chasing the winged butterfly ; Hasten ! when o'er vale and dell, Sounds the gathering Sabbath bell ! TRAVELLER ! thou whom gain, or taste, Speedeth through earth's weary waste ; WANDERER!

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