A Book of Remembrance, Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the YearMethuen & Company, 1908 - 415 Seiten |
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Seite 52
Elizabeth Godfrey. BEST EST and brightest , come away , - Fairer far than this fair day , Which , like thee , to those in sorrow Comes to bid a sweet good - morrow To the rough year just awake In its cradle on the brake . The brightest ...
Elizabeth Godfrey. BEST EST and brightest , come away , - Fairer far than this fair day , Which , like thee , to those in sorrow Comes to bid a sweet good - morrow To the rough year just awake In its cradle on the brake . The brightest ...
Seite 66
... name it aright ? ) comes for a moment and goes- Rapture of life ineffable , perfect - as if in the briar , Leafless there by the door , trembles the sense of a rose . W. D. HOWELLS THE MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND FAIR AIR now is 66.
... name it aright ? ) comes for a moment and goes- Rapture of life ineffable , perfect - as if in the briar , Leafless there by the door , trembles the sense of a rose . W. D. HOWELLS THE MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND FAIR AIR now is 66.
Seite 97
... Comes silent , flooding in , the main . And not by eastern windows only , When daylight comes , comes in the light ; In front the sun climbs slow , how slowly , But westward , look , the land is bright . ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 7 THE HE ...
... Comes silent , flooding in , the main . And not by eastern windows only , When daylight comes , comes in the light ; In front the sun climbs slow , how slowly , But westward , look , the land is bright . ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 7 THE HE ...
Seite 131
... comes , whom drownèd deep In drowsy fit he finds ; of nothing he takes keep . And more to lull him in his slumber soft , A trickling stream , from high rock tumbling down , And ever drizzling rain upon the loft , Mixed with a murmuring ...
... comes , whom drownèd deep In drowsy fit he finds ; of nothing he takes keep . And more to lull him in his slumber soft , A trickling stream , from high rock tumbling down , And ever drizzling rain upon the loft , Mixed with a murmuring ...
Seite 137
Elizabeth Godfrey. Now MAY MORNING OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with her The flowery May , who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose . Hail ...
Elizabeth Godfrey. Now MAY MORNING OW the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with her The flowery May , who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose . Hail ...
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A Book of Remembrance: Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the Year ... Elizabeth Godfrey Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2015 |
A Book of Remembrance: Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the Year ... Elizabeth Godfrey Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2018 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
A. E. Housman Alfred Tennyson Anon April autumn beauty beneath birds blow breath bright CHRISTINA ROSSETTI clouds cold dark dead dear death delight dost doth dream earth Edward Cracroft Lefroy eternal eyes fair fear feet flowers glory golden green grey happy hast hath hear heart heaven hill John JOHN KEBLE July June Katharine Tynan-Hinkson light live LONGFELLOW look Lord Love's March merry morning never night o'er pain peace Percy Bysshe Shelley Philip Bourke Marston Poems RICHARD Robert Bridges ROBERT HERRICK rose ROSSETTI sail Sept SHAKESPEARE SHELLEY silence sing skies sleep smile snow song sorrow soul SPENSER spirit spring stars sweet tears thee thine things Thomas Lovell Beddoes thought trees unto voice W. B. Yeats walk waves weary wild William William Wordsworth wind wings winter woods WORDSWORTH
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 291 - He that is down needs fear no fall; He that is low, no pride. He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.
Seite 98 - THE splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Seite 213 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Seite 86 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Seite 15 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above ; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.
Seite 374 - 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.
Seite 121 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Seite 316 - O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
Seite 9 - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Seite 314 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies : How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries?