A selection of English poetry, designed for the use of schools and families, Ausgabe 9121873 |
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Seite viii
... Dead , Faber Mercy , Shakespeare Midnight Scene , Byron Ministry of Angels , Spenser Monks and Schoolmen , Wordsworth Month of Mary , Newman : FAGE 256 311 295 261 371 272 92 190 312 152 358 240 : : 51 327 129 138 126 212-3 250 333 113 ...
... Dead , Faber Mercy , Shakespeare Midnight Scene , Byron Ministry of Angels , Spenser Monks and Schoolmen , Wordsworth Month of Mary , Newman : FAGE 256 311 295 261 371 272 92 190 312 152 358 240 : : 51 327 129 138 126 212-3 250 333 113 ...
Seite 21
... dead ; those two are dead ! Their spirits are in heaven ! " ' Twas throwing words away ; for still The little Maid would have her will , And said , " Nay , Master ! we are seven ! " TO THE CUCKOO . BY WORDSWORTH . O BLYTHE new comer ! I ...
... dead ; those two are dead ! Their spirits are in heaven ! " ' Twas throwing words away ; for still The little Maid would have her will , And said , " Nay , Master ! we are seven ! " TO THE CUCKOO . BY WORDSWORTH . O BLYTHE new comer ! I ...
Seite 26
... ; but by none Am I enough beloved . " " Now both himself and me he wrongs , The man who thus complains ! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains , And , Matthew , for thy children dead I'll be 26 A SELECTION OF.
... ; but by none Am I enough beloved . " " Now both himself and me he wrongs , The man who thus complains ! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains , And , Matthew , for thy children dead I'll be 26 A SELECTION OF.
Seite 27
English poetry. And , Matthew , for thy children dead I'll be a son to thee ! " At this he grasp'd my hand , and said , " Alas ! that cannot be . ' We rose up from the fountain - side ; And down the smooth descent Of the green sheep ...
English poetry. And , Matthew , for thy children dead I'll be a son to thee ! " At this he grasp'd my hand , and said , " Alas ! that cannot be . ' We rose up from the fountain - side ; And down the smooth descent Of the green sheep ...
Seite 41
... dead of night , The sods with our bayonets turning , By the struggling moonbeam's misty light , And the lantern dimly burning . No useless coffin enclosed his breast , Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior ...
... dead of night , The sods with our bayonets turning , By the struggling moonbeam's misty light , And the lantern dimly burning . No useless coffin enclosed his breast , Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Albrecht Dürer angel beauty beneath bless blest breast breath breeze Bregenz bright Brutus busy bee Cæsar calm cheerful child clouds crown dark dead dear death deep dread earth eyes fair fear flowers gaze Gilpin gleam glory gold golden grace grave Greece green happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy honour hopes hour humble J. H. NEWMAN John Gilpin LADY G land light living Lochiel lonely Lord maze of fate Merry England midst morn mother mountain ne'er never night o'er pain plain praise prayer pride rest rise round rude shade shine shore sigh silent Skiddaw skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star of Bethlehem stars stream sweet SWEET Auburn tears thee thine thou art thought toil Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild winds wings youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 112 - This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Seite 240 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, •To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Seite 60 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Seite 170 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply, And many a holy text around she strews That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
Seite 36 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Seite 117 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
Seite 123 - O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Seite 5 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,— The desert and illimitable air,— Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Seite 5 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Seite 136 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.