The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - Всего страниц: 272 |
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Стр. 2
... thee , and wish thee long . Milton . harbinger ] herald . 4 The Echoing Green THE Sun does arise And make 2.
... thee , and wish thee long . Milton . harbinger ] herald . 4 The Echoing Green THE Sun does arise And make 2.
Стр. 13
... thee , One sword , at least , thy rights shall guard , One faithful harp shall praise thee ! ' The Minstrel fell ! -but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again , For he tore its ...
... thee , One sword , at least , thy rights shall guard , One faithful harp shall praise thee ! ' The Minstrel fell ! -but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again , For he tore its ...
Стр. 24
... thee soon ; Rest , rest , on mother's breast , Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest , Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep , my little one , sleep , my pretty one , sleep ...
... thee soon ; Rest , rest , on mother's breast , Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest , Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep , my little one , sleep , my pretty one , sleep ...
Стр. 25
... thee . Oh ! fear not the bugle , though loudly it blows , It calls but the warders that guard thy repose ; Their bows would be bended , their blades would be red , Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed . Oh ! hush thee , my ...
... thee . Oh ! fear not the bugle , though loudly it blows , It calls but the warders that guard thy repose ; Their bows would be bended , their blades would be red , Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed . Oh ! hush thee , my ...
Стр. 35
... thee down to die ? What therein was worth , Lord , thy death and birth ? What beneath thy sky ? . . . From the height of night , Was not thine the star That led forth with might By no worldly light Wise men from afar ? Bid our peace ...
... thee down to die ? What therein was worth , Lord , thy death and birth ? What beneath thy sky ? . . . From the height of night , Was not thine the star That led forth with might By no worldly light Wise men from afar ? Bid our peace ...
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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.