The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - Всего страниц: 272 |
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Стр. 12
... Once I was a sunbeam fair , Darting thro ' the awaken'd air . Quickly to a green leaf gone , On a forest tree I shone . Steely lightning struck the bough , And I sank into a slough . Many ages there I lay , Ere I saw the All - Father ...
... Once I was a sunbeam fair , Darting thro ' the awaken'd air . Quickly to a green leaf gone , On a forest tree I shone . Steely lightning struck the bough , And I sank into a slough . Many ages there I lay , Ere I saw the All - Father ...
Стр. 18
... Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes . Her timbers yet are sound , And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder , And plough the distant main . But Kempenfelt is gone , His ...
... Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes . Her timbers yet are sound , And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder , And plough the distant main . But Kempenfelt is gone , His ...
Стр. 30
... Once bless our human ears , ( If ye have power to touch our senses so ) And let your silver chime Move in melodious time ; And let the Bass of Heav'n's deep Organ blow , And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to th ...
... Once bless our human ears , ( If ye have power to touch our senses so ) And let your silver chime Move in melodious time ; And let the Bass of Heav'n's deep Organ blow , And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to th ...
Стр. 41
... the right Went down into the sea . ' Higher and higher every day , Till over the mast at noon The Wedding - Guest here beat his breast , For he heard the loud bassoon . eftsoons ] at once . The bride hath paced into the hall , Red as 41.
... the right Went down into the sea . ' Higher and higher every day , Till over the mast at noon The Wedding - Guest here beat his breast , For he heard the loud bassoon . eftsoons ] at once . The bride hath paced into the hall , Red as 41.
Стр. 46
... once their breath drew in , As they were drinking all . ' See ! see ! ( I cried ) she tacks no more ! Hither to work us weal ; Without a breeze , without a tide , She steadies with upright keel ! ' The western wave was all a - flame ...
... once their breath drew in , As they were drinking all . ' See ! see ! ( I cried ) she tacks no more ! Hither to work us weal ; Without a breeze , without a tide , She steadies with upright keel ! ' The western wave was all a - flame ...
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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.