The Poets of the Nineteenth CenturyRobert Aris Willmott Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 674 Seiten |
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Seite 14
... arms , The shipwright's darling treasure , didst present To the four - quarter'd winds , robust and bold , Warp'd into tough knee - timber , many a load ! But the axe spar'd thee . In those thriftier days Oaks fell not , hewn by ...
... arms , The shipwright's darling treasure , didst present To the four - quarter'd winds , robust and bold , Warp'd into tough knee - timber , many a load ! But the axe spar'd thee . In those thriftier days Oaks fell not , hewn by ...
Seite 15
... arms have left thee . Winds have rent them off Long since , and rovers of the forest wild , With bow and shaft , have burnt them . Some have left A splinter'd stump , bleach'd to a snowy white ; And some , memorial none where once they ...
... arms have left thee . Winds have rent them off Long since , and rovers of the forest wild , With bow and shaft , have burnt them . Some have left A splinter'd stump , bleach'd to a snowy white ; And some , memorial none where once they ...
Seite 22
... arm around a vase she flings , From which the tender plant mimosa springs ; Towards its leaves , o'er which she fondly bends , The youthful fair her vacant hand extends With gentle motion , anxious to survey How far the feeling fibres ...
... arm around a vase she flings , From which the tender plant mimosa springs ; Towards its leaves , o'er which she fondly bends , The youthful fair her vacant hand extends With gentle motion , anxious to survey How far the feeling fibres ...
Seite 32
... arms of trees , lovely in Spring , When on each bough the rosy tinctur'd bloom Sits thick , and promises autumnal plenty . For even those orchards round the Norman farms , Which , as their owners mark the promis'd fruit , Console them ...
... arms of trees , lovely in Spring , When on each bough the rosy tinctur'd bloom Sits thick , and promises autumnal plenty . For even those orchards round the Norman farms , Which , as their owners mark the promis'd fruit , Console them ...
Seite 36
... arms outstretch , And urge the vengeance o'er the guilty wretch . Thus when Cambyses led his barbarous hosts From Persia's rocks to Egypt's trembling coasts , Defiled each hallow'd fane , and sacred wood , And , drunk with fury , swell ...
... arms outstretch , And urge the vengeance o'er the guilty wretch . Thus when Cambyses led his barbarous hosts From Persia's rocks to Egypt's trembling coasts , Defiled each hallow'd fane , and sacred wood , And , drunk with fury , swell ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Amelia Opie beam beauty beneath bird blue bosom Bouillabaisse bower breast breath bright brow charms cheek cloud dark dead dear deep delight DEN BOSCH Ditto dread dream earth F. O. C. Darley face fair fear flowers friends gaze gentle gleam glory grave green hand hast hath heard heart heaven hill hour James Godwin Kilmeny LEWESDON HILL light living lonely look lov'd morning mother murmur never night o'er ocean old oaken bucket pride rocks rose round SACK OF BALTIMORE scene seem'd shade shadow shining shore sigh sight silent Sir Bedivere sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale VISIT FROM ST voice W. D. Howells wandering wave weep wild wind wings wood youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 138 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Seite 137 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Seite 155 - Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain. " She shall be sportive as the fawn, That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs; And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm Of mute insensate things.
Seite 467 - Wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — Vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — Sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.
Seite 368 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Seite 137 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Seite 301 - And now when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Seite 139 - 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. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leant against the armed man.
Seite 440 - Merlin sware that I should come again To rule once more— but let what will be be, I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, Which was my pride; for thou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, Holding the sword— and...
Seite 443 - The great brand Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea. So...