Beauties of English LandscapeGeorge Routledge and Sons, 1874 - 301 sidor |
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Resultat 1-5 av 14
Sida x
... scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay I could not pray : -through tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale , Joined in one solemn and capacious grove His ...
... scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay I could not pray : -through tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale , Joined in one solemn and capacious grove His ...
Sida xvi
... scene remote 269 Where twilight loves to linger for a while 270 And her alone he loved , and loved her from a child 271 272 273 275 276 277 278 To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine In ...
... scene remote 269 Where twilight loves to linger for a while 270 And her alone he loved , and loved her from a child 271 272 273 275 276 277 278 To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine In ...
Sida 22
... scene Of lofty hopes , he to the world went forth A favoured being , knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow - gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues , and jealousy , and hate , And scorn , -against all enemies prepared , All but ...
... scene Of lofty hopes , he to the world went forth A favoured being , knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow - gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues , and jealousy , and hate , And scorn , -against all enemies prepared , All but ...
Sida 44
... scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay , And winds were soft , and woods were green , And the song ceased not with the day . But still wild music is abroad , Pale , desert woods ! within your crowd ; And gathering winds in hoarse ...
... scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay , And winds were soft , and woods were green , And the song ceased not with the day . But still wild music is abroad , Pale , desert woods ! within your crowd ; And gathering winds in hoarse ...
Sida 66
... scene . Heaven's ebon vault , Studded with stars unutterably bright , Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls , Seems like a canopy which Love had spread To curtain her sleeping world . Yon gentle hills , Robed in a garment of ...
... scene . Heaven's ebon vault , Studded with stars unutterably bright , Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls , Seems like a canopy which Love had spread To curtain her sleeping world . Yon gentle hills , Robed in a garment of ...
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beam beauty behold beneath birds blessed bloom bosom boughs bower breathe bride bright BROTHERS calm Canst thou forget cliffs clouds Cold fear Coloured cottage Cushlo-mo-chree DALZIEL BROTHERS dark dear deep delight doth dream earth EDMUND EVANS ELIZA COOK fair fear flowers gentle gleam glide Grasmere grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy hath heard heart heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour JOHN FRANCIS WALLER lassie leaf light live lonely look luve Maire bhan Astor merry morning mossy MOTHERWELL mountain murmur night o'er pleasure rills rocks round rove scene shade shepherd shines shore side sight silence sing sleep smile snow soft solitude song sorrow soul spread Spring stood stream summer tears thee thine thou art thoughts trees vale village voice wandering waters waves wild winds winter woods WORDSWORTH Yarrow youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 14 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Sida 50 - This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Sida 236 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings ; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised...
Sida 200 - 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.
Sida 56 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Sida 56 - Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Sida 30 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Sida 232 - My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard, Thus fares it still in our decay; And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
Sida 222 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Sida 122 - NUNS fret not at their Convent's narrow room ; And Hermits are contented with their Cells ; And Students with their pensive Citadels : Maids at the Wheel, the Weaver at his Loom, Sit blithe and happy; Bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Pea.k of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in Foxglove bells : In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...