The Poetical Works of Alfred TennysonHarper, 1870 - Всего страниц: 246 |
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Стр. 6
... Sleeping . 240 Specimen of a Translation of the Iliad in Blank Verse .. Sonnet . 240 208 Sonnet . 240 Sonnet . 240 MISCELLANEOUS : - Sonnet . 240 The Northern Farmer . New style .. 225 Love .. 241 The Victim .... 226 The Kraken 241 ...
... Sleeping . 240 Specimen of a Translation of the Iliad in Blank Verse .. Sonnet . 240 208 Sonnet . 240 Sonnet . 240 MISCELLANEOUS : - Sonnet . 240 The Northern Farmer . New style .. 225 Love .. 241 The Victim .... 226 The Kraken 241 ...
Стр. 11
... sleep she seemed to walk forlorn , Till cold winds woke the gray - eyed morn About the lonely moated grange . She only said , " The day is dreary , He cometh not , " she said ; She said , " I am aweary , aweary , I would that I were ...
... sleep she seemed to walk forlorn , Till cold winds woke the gray - eyed morn About the lonely moated grange . She only said , " The day is dreary , He cometh not , " she said ; She said , " I am aweary , aweary , I would that I were ...
Стр. 13
... sleep I sank In cool soft turf upon the bank , Entranced with that place and time , So worthy of the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Thence thro ' the garden I was drawn- A realm of pleasance , many a mound , And many a shadow ...
... sleep I sank In cool soft turf upon the bank , Entranced with that place and time , So worthy of the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Thence thro ' the garden I was drawn- A realm of pleasance , many a mound , And many a shadow ...
Стр. 19
... sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold To scare church - harpies from the master's feast ; Our dusted velvets have much need of thee ; Thou art no Sabbath - drawler of old saws , Distill'd from some worm ...
... sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold To scare church - harpies from the master's feast ; Our dusted velvets have much need of thee ; Thou art no Sabbath - drawler of old saws , Distill'd from some worm ...
Стр. 21
... sleep forgotten , I wake forlorn . " Nor bird would sing , nor lamb would bleat , Nor any cloud would cross the vault , But day increased from heat to heat , On stony drought and steaming salt ; Till now at noon she slept again , And ...
... sleep forgotten , I wake forlorn . " Nor bird would sing , nor lamb would bleat , Nor any cloud would cross the vault , But day increased from heat to heat , On stony drought and steaming salt ; Till now at noon she slept again , And ...
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answer'd arms Arthur ask'd beat beauty beneath blood blow breath brows Caerleon call'd Camelot child cloud cried dark dead dear death deep dream Dubric earth Enid Enoch ev'n Excalibur eyes face fair Fair lord fall fear fire flower Gawain Geraint golden Guinevere hall hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour jousts king King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine light Limours lips live look look'd lord maid maiden Merlin moon morn move never night noble o'er once Oriana Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame sing Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro turn'd vext voice weep wild wind words
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Стр. 112 - So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; That I, considering everywhere Her secret meaning in her deeds, And finding that of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear; I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro...
Стр. 89 - 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. 56 - As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This...
Стр. 122 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Стр. 140 - I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Стр. 145 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them...
Стр. 60 - From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue; Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunderstorm; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law. So I triumph'd ere my passion sweeping thro...
Стр. 122 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
Стр. 89 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. ' 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. 222 - Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats...