The Book of Poetry |
Din interiorul cărții
Pagina 158
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit , and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness , and the night , Become the touches of sweet harmony . Sit , Jessica : look , how the floor of heaven Is ...
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit , and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness , and the night , Become the touches of sweet harmony . Sit , Jessica : look , how the floor of heaven Is ...
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Termeni și expresii frecvente
arms beauty bells beneath born breath bright cheerful clear clouds cried dark dead dear death deep doth dread dreams earth eyes fair fall Father fear feel field fire flowers give glory gone grave green hall hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry hill hope hour human King land leaves light living look Lord mind morn never night o'er once pass peace praise pray rise rose round seen shade side sight silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star streams sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand tree turn village voice waters wave wide wild wind wings woods young youth
Pasaje populare
Pagina 28 - Sweet smiling village ! loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green ! One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain...
Pagina 51 - When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side. In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the...
Pagina 156 - I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Pagina 133 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Pagina 156 - The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
Pagina 121 - And ye five other wandering fires, that move In mystic dance not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Pagina 118 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Pagina 116 - Where some, like magistrates correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in. their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor...
Pagina 34 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Pagina 104 - Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. Await alike the' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Informații bibliografice
| Titlu | The Book of Poetry |
| Editor | Bennett George Johns |
| Ediție | 2 |
| Editor | James Burns, 1847 |
| Exemplar original de la | Biblioteca publică din New York |
| Scanată la | 22 nov. 2006 |
| Lungime | 186 pagini |
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