 The hills Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and...  Poems of the English Race - Стр. 276редактор(ы): - 1921 - Страниц: 410Полный просмотр - Подробнее о книге
 | 1822 - Страниц: 764
...and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green — and, poured round all, Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — • Are but the solemn decorations...tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous .woods Where rolls the... | |
 | 1822 - Страниц: 298
...and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green — and, poured round all, Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations...tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan,... | |
 | 1822 - Страниц: 758
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 | 1825 - Страниц: 426
...majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and poured round Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations...a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. So -l..ni thou rest — and what if thou shall fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take... | |
 | 1826 - Страниц: 438
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 | 1829 - Страниц: 642
...move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green — and, pour'd round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but...the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the... | |
 | 1829 - Страниц: 436
...majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and pour'd round all, Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations...tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the... | |
 | 1829 - Страниц: 514
...melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden tun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are...the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the... | |
 | 1829 - Страниц: 520
...that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green— and, pour'd round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but...shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still laps? of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.... | |
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