The princess, a medley

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Стр. 47 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Стр. 66 - Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd 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. 65 - ... 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. 63 - The splendor 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. 139 - Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet...
Стр. 113 - Call'd him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe ; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Стр. 129 - Ask me no more. Ask me no more: what answer should I give? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye : Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die ! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; Ask me no more.
Стр. 31 - This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets...
Стр. 147 - Or all, they said, as earnest as the close ? Which yet with such a framework scarce could be. Then rose a little feud betwixt the two, Betwixt the mockers and the realists : And I, betwixt them both, to please them both. And yet to give the story as it rose, I moved as in a strange diagonal, And maybe neither pleased myself nor them.
Стр. 48 - Morn in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and each by other drest with care Descended to the court that lay three parts In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touch'd Above the darkness from their native East.

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