The Laurel and Lyre. Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyFrederick Warne and Company, 1879 - 400 Seiten |
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Seite 1
... cloud , half wave— Hath sunk into the weltering grave . Castle - Oban is dark without and within , And downwards to the fearful din , Where Ocean with his thunder shocks Stuns the green foundation rocks , Through the grim abyss that ...
... cloud , half wave— Hath sunk into the weltering grave . Castle - Oban is dark without and within , And downwards to the fearful din , Where Ocean with his thunder shocks Stuns the green foundation rocks , Through the grim abyss that ...
Seite 7
... cloud that long hath lain Black amid the sullen sky , Suddenly dissolves in rain , And stricken by the sunlight , shines With a thousand gorgeous lines , Blended and braided gloriously , — So fair , so pure , so bright appears That ...
... cloud that long hath lain Black amid the sullen sky , Suddenly dissolves in rain , And stricken by the sunlight , shines With a thousand gorgeous lines , Blended and braided gloriously , — So fair , so pure , so bright appears That ...
Seite 9
... cloud - like float of her array , And with a blessing and a prayer She fixeth in her raven hair The jewel that her lover gave The night before he cross'd the wave To kingdoms far away . Soft steps are winding down the stair And now ...
... cloud - like float of her array , And with a blessing and a prayer She fixeth in her raven hair The jewel that her lover gave The night before he cross'd the wave To kingdoms far away . Soft steps are winding down the stair And now ...
Seite 10
... Cloud - coronachs that wildly rise When far away a chieftain dies . Down - downwards to his savage cave , By steps the goat doth almost fear To lead her little kids to browse On wild herb that there thinly grows ' Mid spray showers from ...
... Cloud - coronachs that wildly rise When far away a chieftain dies . Down - downwards to his savage cave , By steps the goat doth almost fear To lead her little kids to browse On wild herb that there thinly grows ' Mid spray showers from ...
Seite 14
... Rose on the broad Atlantic tide ; And not a cloud obscured the ray That gilded all that ocean wide ; The Sea . But when in anger tempest - driven 16 The Laurel and Lyre . Queen Mary's Lament for Calais, 217 Remembrance, · 158.
... Rose on the broad Atlantic tide ; And not a cloud obscured the ray That gilded all that ocean wide ; The Sea . But when in anger tempest - driven 16 The Laurel and Lyre . Queen Mary's Lament for Calais, 217 Remembrance, · 158.
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
91 Lines ALARIC ALLAN CUNNINGHAM BARRY CORNWALL beauty beneath bird bless'd bloom bosom breast breath bright brow call'd CAROLINE BOWLES cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep dream earth Eugene Aram face fade fair Farewell fear feel flowers gaze gentle gleam glory grave green grief hath heard heart heaven Here's hope hour JOHN KEATS kiss lady life's light lips lonely look look'd LORD BYRON lute lyre Mermaid Tavern MISS LANDON Mont Blanc morning mother ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd pride redundant song rock rose round seem'd shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star storm stream summer sweet tears thee thine THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tomb tree Twas voice wallflower wandering wave weep wild wild dance wind wings youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 70 - 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 69 - Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Seite 333 - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France ! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Seite 70 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down : The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn ; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Seite 176 - I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story...
Seite 69 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Seite 71 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; 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 40 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
Seite 27 - The Usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain, Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again; And down he sat beside the lad, And talked with him of Cain; And, long since then, of bloody men, Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves...
Seite 379 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow.