The princess |
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Стр. 24
... Close at the boundary of the liberties ; There , enter'd an old hostel , call'd mine host To council , plied him with his richest wines , And show'd the late - writ letters of the king . He with a long low sibilation , stared As blank ...
... Close at the boundary of the liberties ; There , enter'd an old hostel , call'd mine host To council , plied him with his richest wines , And show'd the late - writ letters of the king . He with a long low sibilation , stared As blank ...
Стр. 31
... close upon the Sun , Than our man's earth ; such eyes were in her head , And so much grace and power , breathing down From over her arch'd brows , with every turn Lived thro ' her to the tips of her long hands , And to her feet . She ...
... close upon the Sun , Than our man's earth ; such eyes were in her head , And so much grace and power , breathing down From over her arch'd brows , with every turn Lived thro ' her to the tips of her long hands , And to her feet . She ...
Стр. 59
... close with Cyril's random wish : Not like your Princess cramm'd with erring pride , Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow . ' ' The crane , ' I said , ' may chatter of the crane , The dove may murmur of the dove , but I An eagle ...
... close with Cyril's random wish : Not like your Princess cramm'd with erring pride , Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow . ' ' The crane , ' I said , ' may chatter of the crane , The dove may murmur of the dove , but I An eagle ...
Стр. 88
... the single jewel on her brow Burn like the mystic fire on a mast - head , Prophet of storm : a handmaid on each side Bow'd toward her , combing out her long black hair Damp from the river ; and close behind her stood 88 THE PRINCESS ;
... the single jewel on her brow Burn like the mystic fire on a mast - head , Prophet of storm : a handmaid on each side Bow'd toward her , combing out her long black hair Damp from the river ; and close behind her stood 88 THE PRINCESS ;
Стр. 89
Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) Damp from the river ; and close behind her stood Eight daughters of the plough , stronger than men , Huge women blowzed with health , and wind , and rain , And labour . Each was like a Druid rock ; Or like a ...
Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) Damp from the river ; and close behind her stood Eight daughters of the plough , stronger than men , Huge women blowzed with health , and wind , and rain , And labour . Each was like a Druid rock ; Or like a ...
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ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow boys brows call'd cheek child cloth COLERIDGE'S cried Cyril dark dash'd daughter dead dear death DOVER STREET dream dropt dying EDITION EDWARD MOXON enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fell fight Florian flying follow'd foolscap 8vo gain'd gazed girl glance glowworm half hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er ourselves peace POEMS POET LAUREATE POETICAL price 68 Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's push'd rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shadow shame shook song spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd tender thee thou thought thro trumpet turn'd vext voice volume wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Winter's tale woman women WORDSWORTH'S
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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. 174 - Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
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...