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Books Bücher 71 - 80 von 176 in Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy...
" Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day... "
Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere - Seite 253
herausgegeben von - 1858
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Beauties of poetry and gems of art

1865
...winnowing wind ; Or, on a half-reap'd furrow, sound asleep, Drowsed with the fumes of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath, and all its twined flowers...hast thy music too, — While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue : Then, in a wailful choir, the small gnats...
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Chambers's readings in English poetry

1865
...the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers ; And sometime like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head...hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats...
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Evenings in Arcadia

John Dennis - 1865 - 321 Seiten
...the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twinSd flowers ; And sometime like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head...Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, where are they I Think not of them, — thou hast thy music too, While barrfid clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And...
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Evenings in Arcadia

John Dennis - 1865 - 321 Seiten
...sometime like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or by a eider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings,...Think not of them, — thou hast thy music too, While barrecl clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful...
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Beauties of Modern British Poetry: Systematically Arranged ...

David Grant - 1865 - 416 Seiten
...winnowing wind ; Or in a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or by a cyder press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs...
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Spring-time with the poets, poetry selected and arranged by F. Martin

Frances Martin - 1866
...the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swathe and all its twined flowers ; And sometime, like a gleaner, thou dost keep Steady thy laden head...oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring ? Aye, where are they ? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying...
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Extracts from English Literature

John Rolfe - 1867 - 383 Seiten
...flow'r. POPE. Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring ? Ah, where are they ? Think not of them : thou hast thy music, too, While barred clouds bloom the...
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Scenes of the Olden Time

William Henry Davenport Adams - 1867 - 128 Seiten
...fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the nest swathe, and all its twined flowers ; And sometime, like a gleaner, thou dost keep Steady thy laden head...with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hour by hour. '' And while watching its keen, sweet cider draughts, its purple grapes, its brown ripe...
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Scenes of the olden time, by the author of 'Records of noble lives'.

William Henry Davenport Adams - 1867
...fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swathe, and all its twined flowers ; And sometime, like a gleaner, thou dost keep Steady thy laden head...cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozinga, hour by hour. '* And while watching its keen, sweet cider draughts, its purple grapes, its...
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Woodland and wild: a selection of descriptive poetry

Woodland - 1868
...winnowing wind ; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...brook ; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou wat chest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of spring ? Ay, where are they ? Think...
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