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Стр. 136 - Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears — " Sweet my child, I live for thee.
Стр. 74 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river : Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow,...
Стр. 76 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Стр. 79 - O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
Стр. 74 - THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 180 - Britain, whole within herself, A nation yet, the rulers and the ruled — Some sense of duty, something of a faith, Some reverence for the laws ourselves have made, Some patient force to change them when we will, Some civic manhood firm against the crowd...
Стр. 77 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Стр. 77 - ... Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Стр. 8 - Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, Grew side by side ; and on the pavement lay Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park, Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time ; And on the tables every clime and age - Jumbled together ; celts and calumets, Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries, Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere, The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs From the isles of palm : and higher on the walls, Betwixt the monstrous...