The Traveler's Book of VerseFrederick Earle Emmons, Thomas Waterman Huntington H. Holt, 1928 - 406 Seiten |
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Seite 15
... memories , and through each aisle and chapel of this national mausoleum flows the majes- tic strain of English history none the less real because in- visible . " Mortality , behold and fear ! What a change of flesh is here ! Think how ...
... memories , and through each aisle and chapel of this national mausoleum flows the majes- tic strain of English history none the less real because in- visible . " Mortality , behold and fear ! What a change of flesh is here ! Think how ...
Seite 17
... memories arise to greet us at every little village or crossroad . Say what you will , it is the Mother Country . Here there is no alien speech and we do not feel ourselves strangers . England's panoramic stage and theatre have been so ...
... memories arise to greet us at every little village or crossroad . Say what you will , it is the Mother Country . Here there is no alien speech and we do not feel ourselves strangers . England's panoramic stage and theatre have been so ...
Seite 56
... memory to haunt the dreams of those who love her as she deserves . City of mist and rain and blown grey spaces , Dashed with wild wet colour and gleam of tears , Dreaming in Holyrood halls of the passionate faces Lifted to one Queen's ...
... memory to haunt the dreams of those who love her as she deserves . City of mist and rain and blown grey spaces , Dashed with wild wet colour and gleam of tears , Dreaming in Holyrood halls of the passionate faces Lifted to one Queen's ...
Seite 57
... castle a cannon's thunder Closeth an hour for the world and an aeon for me , Gazing at last from the martial heights whereunder Deathless memories roll to an ageless sea . ALFRED NOYES . MELROSE ABBEY From Lay of the Last Minstrel " "
... castle a cannon's thunder Closeth an hour for the world and an aeon for me , Gazing at last from the martial heights whereunder Deathless memories roll to an ageless sea . ALFRED NOYES . MELROSE ABBEY From Lay of the Last Minstrel " "
Seite 61
... memory filled with the history and legends in the Waverly Novels . Along the shores of Loch Katrine one may still see the smooth white beach upon which Scott bestowed the name " The Silver Strand . " Here was the meeting place of Fitz ...
... memory filled with the history and legends in the Waverly Novels . Along the shores of Loch Katrine one may still see the smooth white beach upon which Scott bestowed the name " The Silver Strand . " Here was the meeting place of Fitz ...
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
amid Andrea del Sarto Apennine Arno Arqua Avon beauty bells beneath bird blue breast breath bright Burns castle Childe Harold's Pilgrimage church cloud cold dark death deep distant dream dust earth Eton College eyes fair famous Flanders fields Florence flowers gaze glory gold gondola gray hath heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Highlands hills Italy King Lake land light lived lonely look LORD BYRON marble memory mighty morn mountains night o'er once painted palaces pale Petrarch poem poet Prisoner of Chillon Rhine river rock Roman Rome ruin shadow Shelley shine shore silent sing Sirmio sleep smile song soul Spain spires spirit stands stars stone street sweet thee thine thou throne tomb tower town traveler trees Trossachs twas Venice voice walls WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR wandering waters waves wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 359 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
Seite 27 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace; Who foremost now delight to cleave, With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?
Seite 359 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Seite 66 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more : Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Seite 73 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes; How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
Seite 36 - When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main ; This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain : " Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves!
Seite 41 - I wandered lonely as a cloud" I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Seite 143 - Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep ; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more; LXXXVII.
Seite 147 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain, With marks that will not wear away, Till I have done with this new day...
Seite 25 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.