A Study of Metre

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G. Richards, 1903 - 159 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 90 - Over the lakes and the plains. Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream. The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Strana 90 - I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Strana 76 - O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
Strana 124 - All along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow, I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago. All along the valley while I walk'd today, The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed Thy living voice to me...
Strana 117 - 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.
Strana 54 - Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet — Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
Strana 122 - Is it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done; To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes...
Strana 109 - The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free ; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea...
Strana 129 - Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime : As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, For a time. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. 'Hearts of oak!
Strana 38 - ... once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.

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