Flowers for All SeasonsPartridge, 1854 - 312 Seiten |
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Seite 7
... Thou art fair as the morning's first beam 96 Harvest Home 97 Shakspere 106 Oh ! dost thou remember those moments of gladness 109 The Gin Palace 111 The Convent Bells 115 FLOWERS FOR ALL SEASONS . THE WREATH . BRIGHT are.
... Thou art fair as the morning's first beam 96 Harvest Home 97 Shakspere 106 Oh ! dost thou remember those moments of gladness 109 The Gin Palace 111 The Convent Bells 115 FLOWERS FOR ALL SEASONS . THE WREATH . BRIGHT are.
Seite 32
... Thou art as timid as the traveller who fears a thief in every bush , as Shakspere hath it . Come , girl , arouse thee , and see if thou can'st not find the where- withal to cheer the inward man , for , verily , " said he , striking his ...
... Thou art as timid as the traveller who fears a thief in every bush , as Shakspere hath it . Come , girl , arouse thee , and see if thou can'st not find the where- withal to cheer the inward man , for , verily , " said he , striking his ...
Seite 52
... had lit- tle difficulty in discovering . Since then I have remained with the tribe , and , with the blessing of God , intend to die amongst them , CHAPTER V. Thou preachest that all sins may be effaced 32 FLOWERS FOR ALL SLADONS .
... had lit- tle difficulty in discovering . Since then I have remained with the tribe , and , with the blessing of God , intend to die amongst them , CHAPTER V. Thou preachest that all sins may be effaced 32 FLOWERS FOR ALL SLADONS .
Seite 53
John Bolton Rogerson. CHAPTER V. Thou preachest that all sins may be effaced : Is there forgiveness , Christian , in thy creed , For Roderick's crime ? - " For Roderick and for thee , Count Julian , " said the Goth , —and as he spake ...
John Bolton Rogerson. CHAPTER V. Thou preachest that all sins may be effaced : Is there forgiveness , Christian , in thy creed , For Roderick's crime ? - " For Roderick and for thee , Count Julian , " said the Goth , —and as he spake ...
Seite 87
... thou a meek and holy nun , If once mine ear thy voice had drunk , My thoughts of heaven had all been gone ; And I had breathed not hymn or prayer , Whilst musing on thy features fair ; As the light down on breezes flies , My thoughts ...
... thou a meek and holy nun , If once mine ear thy voice had drunk , My thoughts of heaven had all been gone ; And I had breathed not hymn or prayer , Whilst musing on thy features fair ; As the light down on breezes flies , My thoughts ...
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Flowers for All Seasons [Stories, Essays and Poems] John Bolton Rogerson Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Alloway Alloway Kirk amongst appeared beautiful became beheld bells Ben Jonson breath bright brother Burns Burns's called cheek cheer companions Comus cottage Countess of Tripoli dark daugh dead dear death delight dream dwelling earth existence eyes fair father feel felt flowers gaze gentle gipsy glad hand happy harvest hath heard heart heaven Helvellyn hour of musing JOHN BOLTON Kirk knew lady land light Lilias Young LINLITHGOW PALACE lips listened live look memory merry Milton mind morning mother never night o'er once Paradise Lost Paradise Regained parents passed Peel Castle poem poet poetry ramble Robert Burns scene seemed Shakspere Shakspere's Shanter sighs sister smile song soul sound spirit Stephen Gray sweet Tam o'Shanter tears thee thine thou wert thought tones Tynwald village voice wandering whilst wife wild wish words Wordsworth youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 236 - Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades and wanton winds and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Seite 250 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.
Seite 187 - Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart, wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Seite 150 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride. His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And " Let us worship God !
Seite 236 - And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Seite 234 - In this poem there is no nature, for there is no truth ; there is no art, for there is nothing new. Its form is that of a pastoral ; easy, vulgar, and therefore disgusting ; whatever images it can supply are long ago exhausted ; and its inherent improbability always forces dissatisfaction on the mind. When Cowley tells of Hervey, that they studied together, it is easy to suppose how much he must miss the companion of his labours...
Seite 34 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Seite 158 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi...
Seite 235 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days ; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise...
Seite 250 - O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant ; that from these may grow A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.