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Household Treasury of English Song; Specimens of the English Poets ...
W H Davenport Adams
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016
Household Treasury of English Song: Specimens of the English Poets ...
William Henry Davenport Adams
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
arms BATTLE BEAUTY beneath BERMUDA bird born brave breath bright cloud comes dark death deep delight died doth dream earth England English eyes face fair fall fame fear fire flowers gentle give glory gone green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry hills HOPE hour John King land leaves light live look Lord meet MIND moon morning MUSIC NATURE never night o'er once passed past play pleasure poem poet praise pride rest round seemed shade SHAKSPEARE sing sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit spring stars stream summer sweet Tell thee thine THINGS thou thought trees true TRUTH turn voice waves wild wind wings WORDSWORTH young youth
Seite 197 - 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 214 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free...
Seite 102 - For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound, Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around — And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew.
Seite 30 - O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Seite 205 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
Seite 30 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams : Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film : Her...
Seite 105 - Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Seite 198 - 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 taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.