Songs of Three CenturiesJohn Greenleaf Whittier J.R. Osgood, 1875 - Всего страниц: 352 |
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Стр. viii
... REST TO BLOSSOMS TO KEEP A TRUE LENT . VIRTUE THE FLOWER THE BIRD THEY ARE ALL GONE George Herbert 66 66 31 " 6 66 31 31 66 66 31 66 32 Henry Vaughan 32 66 66 33 FOR ONE THAT HEARS HIMSELF MUCH PRAISED George Wither 33 20 20 20 • 21 22 ...
... REST TO BLOSSOMS TO KEEP A TRUE LENT . VIRTUE THE FLOWER THE BIRD THEY ARE ALL GONE George Herbert 66 66 31 " 6 66 31 31 66 66 31 66 32 Henry Vaughan 32 66 66 33 FOR ONE THAT HEARS HIMSELF MUCH PRAISED George Wither 33 20 20 20 • 21 22 ...
Стр. xxiii
... Rest FINCH , F. M Virtue 31 23 32 Blue and the Gray , The . 326 FURNESS , WILLIAM H. HERRICK , ROBERT . Eternal Light . 260 Blossoms , To 31 Daffodils , To 30 GANNETT , WILLIAM C. To keep a True Lent 31 5383 Listening for God HEYWOOD ...
... Rest FINCH , F. M Virtue 31 23 32 Blue and the Gray , The . 326 FURNESS , WILLIAM H. HERRICK , ROBERT . Eternal Light . 260 Blossoms , To 31 Daffodils , To 30 GANNETT , WILLIAM C. To keep a True Lent 31 5383 Listening for God HEYWOOD ...
Стр. 4
... rest : The rich old man that sees His end draw on so sore , How he would be a boy again , To live so much the more . Whereat full oft I smiled , To see how all these three , From boy to man , from man to boy , Would chop and change ...
... rest : The rich old man that sees His end draw on so sore , How he would be a boy again , To live so much the more . Whereat full oft I smiled , To see how all these three , From boy to man , from man to boy , Would chop and change ...
Стр. 5
... rest complain of cares to come . The flowers do fade , and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields ; A honey tongue , a heart of gall , Is fancy's spring , but sorrow's fall . Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy beds of roses , Thy cap ...
... rest complain of cares to come . The flowers do fade , and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields ; A honey tongue , a heart of gall , Is fancy's spring , but sorrow's fall . Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy beds of roses , Thy cap ...
Стр. 8
... rest , But he most happy who such one loves best . FROM THE EPITHALAMIUM . OPEN the temple - gates unto my love . Open them wide that she may enter in , And all the posts adorn as doth behove , And all the pillars deck with garlands ...
... rest , But he most happy who such one loves best . FROM THE EPITHALAMIUM . OPEN the temple - gates unto my love . Open them wide that she may enter in , And all the posts adorn as doth behove , And all the pillars deck with garlands ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
angels beauty BEGONE DULL CARE bells beneath bird blessed bliss bonnie Braes breast breath bright busk calm Christabel clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth EDMUND SPENSER Edom eternal eyes face fair fear flowers frae Glenlogie glory golden grace grave green Grongar Hill hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy hour Hymn Inchcape Rock JOHN BYROM Kilmeny kiss lady land lassie light live Lochaber lonely look Lord maun mind morning mourn ne'er never night o'er praise rest rose round Saint Agnes SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE scorn shade shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought tree unto vale voice wandering waves weary weel ween weep wild WILLIAM SHENSTONE wind wings Yarrow
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Стр. 125 - 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.
Стр. 66 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Стр. 209 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Стр. 30 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Стр. 125 - For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
Стр. 160 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Стр. 223 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea,
Стр. 37 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Стр. 97 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Стр. 223 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!