The forest sanctuary, and other poems; Records of woman, with other poemsHilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, 1827 |
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Стр. 4
... wave , And sighing through the feathery canes1 — hath power To call up shadows , in the silent hour , From the dim past , as from a wizard's cave ! — So must it be ! -These skies above me spread , Are they my own soft skies ? -Ye rest ...
... wave , And sighing through the feathery canes1 — hath power To call up shadows , in the silent hour , From the dim past , as from a wizard's cave ! — So must it be ! -These skies above me spread , Are they my own soft skies ? -Ye rest ...
Стр. 7
... waves Have borne us far from our ancestral graves ? Thou shalt not feel thy bursting heart rebel As mine hath done ; nor bear what I have borne , Casting in falsehood's mould th ' indignant brow of scorn . X. This shall not be thy lot ...
... waves Have borne us far from our ancestral graves ? Thou shalt not feel thy bursting heart rebel As mine hath done ; nor bear what I have borne , Casting in falsehood's mould th ' indignant brow of scorn . X. This shall not be thy lot ...
Стр. 12
... wave Soon leaps to foaming freedom - they , the brave , Endured - they saw the martyr's place assign'd In the red flames - whence is the withering spell That numbs each human pulse ? -they saw , and thought it well . XX . And I , too ...
... wave Soon leaps to foaming freedom - they , the brave , Endured - they saw the martyr's place assign'd In the red flames - whence is the withering spell That numbs each human pulse ? -they saw , and thought it well . XX . And I , too ...
Стр. 14
... wave to my lips , when tropic beams Smote on my fever'd brow ! —Ay , years had pass'd , Severing our paths , brave friend ! —and thus we met at last ! XXIV . I see it still the lofty mien thou 14 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
... wave to my lips , when tropic beams Smote on my fever'd brow ! —Ay , years had pass'd , Severing our paths , brave friend ! —and thus we met at last ! XXIV . I see it still the lofty mien thou 14 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
Стр. 21
... wave Lifted her fervent soul — a sister for the brave ! XXXVII . And yet , alas ! to see the strength which clings Round woman in such hours ! —a mournful sight , Though lovely ! —an o'erflowing of the springs , The full springs of ...
... wave Lifted her fervent soul — a sister for the brave ! XXXVII . And yet , alas ! to see the strength which clings Round woman in such hours ! —a mournful sight , Though lovely ! —an o'erflowing of the springs , The full springs of ...
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The forest sanctuary, and other poems; Records of woman, with other poems Mrs. Hemans Полный просмотр - 1827 |
The forest sanctuary, and other poems; Records of woman, with other poems Mrs. Hemans Полный просмотр - 1827 |
The forest sanctuary, and other poems; Records of woman, with other poems Mrs. Hemans Полный просмотр - 1827 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
art thou beautiful beneath blue streams bosom bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land Bright waves brow cheek child dark dead death deep dreams dust dwell earth Eudora Ev'n faded faint fair fair brow farewell fear fled floating flowers forest fount gathering film gaze gentle glance gleam gloom glow grave green grief hair hath heart Heaven holy hour hush'd JOANNA BAILLIE joyous Lake of Lucerne land leave light lips lone look'd lov'd lyre midst mine-a mirth mother mournful night o'er pale pass'd pour'd prayer rest RHEIMS rose round seem'd shade shadow shining shining band shore silent sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood storm stream strong sunny sweet tears thee thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone Twas unto voice wave weep wild wind woman woods young youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 225 - Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly, With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay...
Стр. 89 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Стр. 221 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away ; Mother, with thine earnest eye, Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Call'd thy harvest work to leave — Pray : ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Стр. 222 - Traveller, in the stranger's land Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea — Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Стр. 95 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Стр. 227 - Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!" Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth, Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth ! Yet through the wastes of the trackless air Ye have a guide, and shall we despair? Ye over desert and deep have pass'd — So may we reach our bright home at last ! THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
Стр. 226 - And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam? — " We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt — Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!
Стр. 227 - midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer — farewell, farewell ! The summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn '. For me, I depart to a brighter shore, Ye are mark'd by care, ye are mine no more. I go where the loved who have left you dwell, And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye well, farewell ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Стр. 147 - Banners of battle o'er him hung, And warriors slept beneath, And light, as noon's broad light was flung On the settled face of death. On the settled face of death A strong and ruddy glare, Though...
Стр. 218 - The mountain-storms rise high In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky, Like rose-leaves on the breeze. But let the storm rage on ! Let the fresh wreaths be shed ! • For the Roncesvalles' field is won, — There slumber England's dead.