The Laurel and Lyre. Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyFrederick Warne and Company, 1879 - 400 Seiten |
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Seite 26
... thou meet not a mourner for all the slain ? Thousands lie dead on their battle - plain ! Gallant and true were the hearts that fell- Grief in the homes they have left must dwell ; Grief o'er the features of childhood spread , And bowing ...
... thou meet not a mourner for all the slain ? Thousands lie dead on their battle - plain ! Gallant and true were the hearts that fell- Grief in the homes they have left must dwell ; Grief o'er the features of childhood spread , And bowing ...
Seite 46
... thou hast ever been gentle and calm : Some have said hate oft hath wrung bitter accents from thy tongue , But to me have thy words been as music and balm . Let them rail , let them rail ; those who credit their tale Cannot know thee so ...
... thou hast ever been gentle and calm : Some have said hate oft hath wrung bitter accents from thy tongue , But to me have thy words been as music and balm . Let them rail , let them rail ; those who credit their tale Cannot know thee so ...
Seite 47
... thou remember what now seems to pass , Like the moonlight on water , the breath - stain on glass ; O maiden , the lovely and youthful , to thee How rose - touch'd the page of thy future must be ! By the past , if thou judge it , how ...
... thou remember what now seems to pass , Like the moonlight on water , the breath - stain on glass ; O maiden , the lovely and youthful , to thee How rose - touch'd the page of thy future must be ! By the past , if thou judge it , how ...
Seite 48
... thou turn pining to days like the dead ! Oh , long ere one shadow shall darken that brow , Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lov'st now ; When thy hopes , like spent arrows , fall short of their mark ; Or , like meteors at ...
... thou turn pining to days like the dead ! Oh , long ere one shadow shall darken that brow , Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lov'st now ; When thy hopes , like spent arrows , fall short of their mark ; Or , like meteors at ...
Seite 55
... thou gently stealing . ? In thy smiling presence , I Kneel in star - struck idolatry , And turn me to thine eye , ( the moon , ) Fretting that it must change so soon . Toying with this idle rhyme , I scorn that bearded villain Time ...
... thou gently stealing . ? In thy smiling presence , I Kneel in star - struck idolatry , And turn me to thine eye , ( the moon , ) Fretting that it must change so soon . Toying with this idle rhyme , I scorn that bearded villain Time ...
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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.