The Harp of the Wilderness; Or, Flowers of Modern Fugitive Poetry ...Simpkin, Marshall, & Company, 1836 |
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Seite 60
... mother then , And new - born infant died . But things like that , you know , must be At every famous victory . They say it was a shocking sight , After the field was won , For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun ; But ...
... mother then , And new - born infant died . But things like that , you know , must be At every famous victory . They say it was a shocking sight , After the field was won , For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun ; But ...
Seite 84
... mother - bird ! and when thy young Take flight , and thou art free to roam , When withered is the guardian flower , And empty thy late home , Think how ye prospered , thou and thine , Amid the unviolated grove , Housed near the growing ...
... mother - bird ! and when thy young Take flight , and thou art free to roam , When withered is the guardian flower , And empty thy late home , Think how ye prospered , thou and thine , Amid the unviolated grove , Housed near the growing ...
Seite 119
... mother's knee ; Thy gay , good - humour'd , childish ease , And all thy thousand arts to please ! Where are they now ? -and where , oh where , The eager , fond caress ? The blooming cheek , so fresh and fair , The lips , all sought to ...
... mother's knee ; Thy gay , good - humour'd , childish ease , And all thy thousand arts to please ! Where are they now ? -and where , oh where , The eager , fond caress ? The blooming cheek , so fresh and fair , The lips , all sought to ...
Seite 126
... mother of mighty Wine . A roamer is she O'er wall and tree ; And sometimes very good company . Drink ! -Who drinks To her who blusheth , and never thinks Ah , who is this maid of thine ? The GRAPE , boys , the GRAPE ! O , never let her ...
... mother of mighty Wine . A roamer is she O'er wall and tree ; And sometimes very good company . Drink ! -Who drinks To her who blusheth , and never thinks Ah , who is this maid of thine ? The GRAPE , boys , the GRAPE ! O , never let her ...
Seite 131
... and see Thee slumbering at my feet . In every knoll I see a friend , In every tree a brother , And clasp thy breast , as I would clasp The bosom of my mother . There stands the tottering tower I climbed , And won THE WILDERNESS . 131.
... and see Thee slumbering at my feet . In every knoll I see a friend , In every tree a brother , And clasp thy breast , as I would clasp The bosom of my mother . There stands the tottering tower I climbed , And won THE WILDERNESS . 131.
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
art thou BARRY CORNWALL beauty beneath bird blessed bliss bloom blue bower breast breath breeze bright brow cheek CHELMSFORD child cloud dark dead death deep dost dream E'en earth faded faded thing fair fame fancy crown farewell fled flowers gaze gentle glad gleaming gloom glory glow gone grave green grief happy HARP hath hear heard heart heaven Helvellyn HEMANS hope hour L. E. LANDON leaf leaves life's light lips lone look lute lyre Magdalene MARY HOWITT mirth morn mother mountain never night o'er pale repose rest rose round S. T. COLERIDGE shade sigh silent sings skies sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring star storm stream summer sweet tears tell tempest thee thine thou art thought thy dreams tree Twas voice wakeful eye wallflower wandering wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 70 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Seite 106 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above ; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.
Seite 185 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters ; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse : And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Seite 170 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm — A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form.
Seite 36 - SPIRIT that breathest through my lattice, thou That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day, Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow : Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, Riding all day the wild blue waves till now. Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!
Seite 172 - And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill changeless brow, Where cold Obstruction's apathy Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon...
Seite 180 - Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.
Seite 36 - God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest, Summoning from the innumerable boughs The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast...
Seite 142 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and home!
Seite 181 - Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day ; All the jolly chase is here, With hawk and horse and hunting-spear; Hounds are in their couples yelling. Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily merrily mingle they: Waken, lords and ladies gay...