The Student's Treasury of English Song ...T. Nelson and Sons, 1873 |
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Σελίδα xiv
... BIRD , MEMORY , Samuel Rogers . BORN 1763 ; died 1855 . THE NEW World , HUMAN LIFE , TO THE BUtterfly , THE BRIDES of Venice , Christina Rossetti . BORN 1835 . THE BOURNE , .. SUMMER , GONE FOR EVER , ::: 355 358 359 361 362 ...
... BIRD , MEMORY , Samuel Rogers . BORN 1763 ; died 1855 . THE NEW World , HUMAN LIFE , TO THE BUtterfly , THE BRIDES of Venice , Christina Rossetti . BORN 1835 . THE BOURNE , .. SUMMER , GONE FOR EVER , ::: 355 358 359 361 362 ...
Σελίδα 18
... Birds here make song , each bird has his , Across the girdling city's hum ; How green under the boughs it is ! How thick the tremulous sheep - cries come ! Sometimes a child will cross the glade To take his nurse his broken toy ...
... Birds here make song , each bird has his , Across the girdling city's hum ; How green under the boughs it is ! How thick the tremulous sheep - cries come ! Sometimes a child will cross the glade To take his nurse his broken toy ...
Σελίδα 19
... birds are fed , The night comes down upon the grass , The child sleeps warmly in his bed . Calm Soul of all things ! make it mine To feel , amid the city's jar , That there abides a peace of thine , Man did not make , and cannot mar ...
... birds are fed , The night comes down upon the grass , The child sleeps warmly in his bed . Calm Soul of all things ! make it mine To feel , amid the city's jar , That there abides a peace of thine , Man did not make , and cannot mar ...
Σελίδα 35
... bird of merry soul Amidst his leaves cannot control His triumphant love of spring . Thou bird of joyous soul , Why canst thou not control Thy triumphant love of spring ? I know that thou dost rally Thy spirit proud to sing , Because to ...
... bird of merry soul Amidst his leaves cannot control His triumphant love of spring . Thou bird of joyous soul , Why canst thou not control Thy triumphant love of spring ? I know that thou dost rally Thy spirit proud to sing , Because to ...
Σελίδα 38
... Birds , they sing ; - - All to swell the pomp of Spring . Now , in poets ' songs ' tis told , How , in vales of Arcady , Once , men knew an age of gold ; Once , the Earth seemed Heaven to be : Hark ! they sing , " Years , ye bring ...
... Birds , they sing ; - - All to swell the pomp of Spring . Now , in poets ' songs ' tis told , How , in vales of Arcady , Once , men knew an age of gold ; Once , the Earth seemed Heaven to be : Hark ! they sing , " Years , ye bring ...
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Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις
ALFRED TENNYSON beauty beneath bird born breath bright BROWNING BRYAN WALLER PROCTER BYRON BYSSHE SHELLEY calm Casa Wappy CHARLES MACKAY child cloud COLERIDGE dark dead death deep delight doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes fair fancy fear feel flowers glory GOETHE golden grace green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour Kilmeny King LEIGH HUNT LIFE'S light live look Lord LORD BYRON LORD LYTTON lyrical LYTTON morning Myrrha never night o'er passion PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Poems poet poetical poetry ring rose round SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE says SCOTT shine sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul SOUTHEY spirit spring stars strife sweet tears tender TENNYSON thee thine things thou thought TRUTH voice waves weary weep wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED WORDSWORTH youth
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 461 - Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Σελίδα 129 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Σελίδα 401 - I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me? — And I replied, No, not thee! Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon — Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night— Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!
Σελίδα 498 - Cuckoo-bird Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Σελίδα 393 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, — we feel that it is there.
Σελίδα 493 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea. Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly.
Σελίδα 458 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling, And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
Σελίδα 52 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing toward the west But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly ! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free.
Σελίδα 393 - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.