The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - Всего страниц: 272 |
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Стр. 3
4 The Echoing Green THE Sun does arise And make happy the skies ; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring ; The skylark and thrush , The birds of the bush , Sing louder around To the bells ' cheerful sound ; While our sports shall be ...
4 The Echoing Green THE Sun does arise And make happy the skies ; The merry bells ring To welcome the Spring ; The skylark and thrush , The birds of the bush , Sing louder around To the bells ' cheerful sound ; While our sports shall be ...
Стр. 23
... happy groves , Where flocks have took delight . Where lambs have nibbled , silent moves The feet of angels bright ; took ] common in dialect and vulgar speech for taken . moves ] see note at end of book . Blake Unseen they pour blessing ...
... happy groves , Where flocks have took delight . Where lambs have nibbled , silent moves The feet of angels bright ; took ] common in dialect and vulgar speech for taken . moves ] see note at end of book . Blake Unseen they pour blessing ...
Стр. 32
... happy day Th ' old Dragon under ground In straiter limits bound , Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway ; And wroth to see his Kingdom fail , Swindges the scaly Horror of his folded tail . The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum ...
... happy day Th ' old Dragon under ground In straiter limits bound , Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway ; And wroth to see his Kingdom fail , Swindges the scaly Horror of his folded tail . The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum ...
Стр. 40
... Happy is your Grace , That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style . . 48 * The Ancient Mariner PART I It is an ancient Mariner , And he stoppeth one of three . Shakespeare . -By thy long gray beard ...
... Happy is your Grace , That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style . . 48 * The Ancient Mariner PART I It is an ancient Mariner , And he stoppeth one of three . Shakespeare . -By thy long gray beard ...
Стр. 50
... happy living things ! no tongue Their beauty might declare : A spring of love gush'd from my heart , And I bless'd them unaware : Sure my kind saint took pity on me , And I bless'd them unaware . ' The selfsame moment I could pray ; And ...
... happy living things ! no tongue Their beauty might declare : A spring of love gush'd from my heart , And I bless'd them unaware : Sure my kind saint took pity on me , And I bless'd them unaware . ' The selfsame moment I could pray ; And ...
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A. E. Housman auld auld lang syne beauty beneath birds blow breath bright Burns calm Cassius cloud cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dread dream earth echoing Green eyes fair Farewell flowers glory grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Newbolt hill John Anderson king Kirconnell land Laurence Binyon leaves light live lonely Lord loud Lycidas maun Milton mirth mist moon morning never night o'er pain pale peace Plymouth Hoe poem Quinquereme rest Ring round seem'd Shakespeare Shelley ship shore silent sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanza stars stood stream sweet syne tears thee thine things thou art thought tree True Thomas Twas voice W. B. Yeats W. H. Davies waves weary wild wind wings woods youth
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Стр. 175 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee!
Стр. 163 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Стр. 16 - 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.
Стр. 175 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Стр. 174 - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, > Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Стр. 162 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these?
Стр. 205 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well...
Стр. 85 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Стр. 18 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Стр. 26 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.