Poetic Treasures: Or, Passages from the Poets. Chronologically ArrangedWard, Lock & Company, 1881 - 644 sidor |
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Sida 12
... Dear , when you find change in me , Though from me you are estranged , Let my change to ruin be . Well , in absence this will die ; Cease to see , and cease to wonder .-- Absence sure will help , if I Can learn how myself to sunder From ...
... Dear , when you find change in me , Though from me you are estranged , Let my change to ruin be . Well , in absence this will die ; Cease to see , and cease to wonder .-- Absence sure will help , if I Can learn how myself to sunder From ...
Sida 38
... dear and deep rebuke , Ere you with grief had spoke , and I had heard The course of it so far . There is your crown : And he that wears the crown immortally , Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more , Than as your honour , and as your ...
... dear and deep rebuke , Ere you with grief had spoke , and I had heard The course of it so far . There is your crown : And he that wears the crown immortally , Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more , Than as your honour , and as your ...
Sida 48
... dear and deep rebuke , Ere you with grief had spoke , and I had heard The course of it so far . There is your crown : And he that wears the crown immortally , Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more , Than as your honour , and as your ...
... dear and deep rebuke , Ere you with grief had spoke , and I had heard The course of it so far . There is your crown : And he that wears the crown immortally , Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more , Than as your honour , and as your ...
Sida 63
... dear my lord , Is the immediate jewel of their souls . Who steals my purse steals trash ; ' tis something , nothing ' Twas mine , ' tis his ; and has been slave to thousands . But he that filches from me my good name , Robs me of that ...
... dear my lord , Is the immediate jewel of their souls . Who steals my purse steals trash ; ' tis something , nothing ' Twas mine , ' tis his ; and has been slave to thousands . But he that filches from me my good name , Robs me of that ...
Sida 84
... dear did loath and let him lack Cordella , well Cordella said she lovèd as a child , But sweeter words we seek than sooth , and so are men beguiled She only rests untried yet ; but what may I expect From her , to whom I nothing gave ...
... dear did loath and let him lack Cordella , well Cordella said she lovèd as a child , But sweeter words we seek than sooth , and so are men beguiled She only rests untried yet ; but what may I expect From her , to whom I nothing gave ...
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Vanliga ord och fraser
beauty birds blest bliss blood blow bosom breast breath bright charms Chaucer Chevy Chase Crazy Jane cried dark dead dear death delight doth dread dream E'en earl Douglas earl Percy earth English poetry Eurydice eyes fair fear flowers frae GILES FLETCHER grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope hour Hudibras JOHN GOWER king light live look lord Lycidas lyre maid mind morn muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er pain peace pleasure poetry poets poor praise rill rise ROBERT SOUTHWELL rose round Saint Serf shade sigh sight sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale voice wave weep wild wind wings youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 135 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of Knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
Sida 531 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Sida 163 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Sida 39 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered, — We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...
Sida 85 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Sida 50 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Sida 124 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Sida 120 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Sida 483 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle-blade ; And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry.
Sida 22 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.