SONETS SLECTED FROM ENGLISH AND AMERICAN AUTHORS |
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... turn of thought in the last two lines , since this was merely to startle or surprise the mind of the reader . No feeble or obscure line could be allowed to stand , and no important word should be used twice , unless such repetition were ...
... turn of thought in the last two lines , since this was merely to startle or surprise the mind of the reader . No feeble or obscure line could be allowed to stand , and no important word should be used twice , unless such repetition were ...
Pagina 36
... turn and sting . Sir Aubrey de Vere . THE AFTERMATH It was late summer , and the grass again Had grown knee - deep ... Turning her gaze responsive to mine own , Spring days are gone , and yet the grass , we see Unto a goodly height again ...
... turn and sting . Sir Aubrey de Vere . THE AFTERMATH It was late summer , and the grass again Had grown knee - deep ... Turning her gaze responsive to mine own , Spring days are gone , and yet the grass , we see Unto a goodly height again ...
Pagina 37
... turning , As o'er the waves the wood - bird seeks her nest , For those green heights of dewy stillness yearning , Whence glorious minds o'erlook this earth's unrest . Now be the spirit of heaven's truth my guide Through the bright land ...
... turning , As o'er the waves the wood - bird seeks her nest , For those green heights of dewy stillness yearning , Whence glorious minds o'erlook this earth's unrest . Now be the spirit of heaven's truth my guide Through the bright land ...
Pagina 40
... Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards , And seal the hushed casket of my soul . John Keats . BRIGHT STAR , WOULD I WERE STEADFAST AS THOU ART ! BRIGHT star , would I were steadfast as thou art ! Not in lone splendour hung aloft the ...
... Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards , And seal the hushed casket of my soul . John Keats . BRIGHT STAR , WOULD I WERE STEADFAST AS THOU ART ! BRIGHT star , would I were steadfast as thou art ! Not in lone splendour hung aloft the ...
Pagina 51
... turn from Praise . I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs , and with my childhood's faith . I love thee with a love I seemed to lose --- With my lost saints , - I love thee with the breath , Smiles , tears , of all my ...
... turn from Praise . I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs , and with my childhood's faith . I love thee with a love I seemed to lose --- With my lost saints , - I love thee with the breath , Smiles , tears , of all my ...
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Sonets Slected from English and American Authors Laura E. Lockwood Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2016 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
beauty behold beneath birds blood breath bright Christina G cloud Company Dante Gabriel Rossetti dark dead dear death deep delight door dost doth dream earth Edmund Spenser Elizabeth Barrett Browning English eternal eyes face fair feet flowers gaze glorious grace hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hour immortal Italian John Keats John Milton land leaves life's lines lips lone Lord love thee love's mighty moon murmur never night o'er pale passionate pause peace permission Petrarch Philip Bourke Marston poets praise publishers Reprinted from Poems rhyme scheme round sestet shadows shine sight silence sing sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul sound Spenser stars summer Surrey sweet tears Theodore Watts-Dunton thine things Thou art thought trembling verse voice weary weep wild William Lisle Bowles William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind wings Wyatt
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Pagina 13 - THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Pagina 24 - 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. — Great God! 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 14 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Pagina 97 - If I should die, think only this of me : That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Pagina 9 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Pagina 23 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Pagina 21 - Their martyred blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant ; that from these may grow A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
Pagina 12 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.
Pagina 21 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Pagina 21 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.