Poems, Zväzok 2Edward Moxon & Company, Dover Street, 1868 - 879 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 78.
Strana 9
... child , that waitest for thy love ! For now her father's chimney glows In expectation of a guest ; And thinking " This will please him best , " She takes a riband or a rose ; For he will see them on to - night ; And with the thought her ...
... child , that waitest for thy love ! For now her father's chimney glows In expectation of a guest ; And thinking " This will please him best , " She takes a riband or a rose ; For he will see them on to - night ; And with the thought her ...
Strana 21
... children sit Cold in that atmosphere of Death , And scarce endure to draw the breath , Or like to noiseless phantoms flit : But open converse is there none , So much the vital spirits sink To see the vacant chair , and think , " How ...
... children sit Cold in that atmosphere of Death , And scarce endure to draw the breath , Or like to noiseless phantoms flit : But open converse is there none , So much the vital spirits sink To see the vacant chair , and think , " How ...
Strana 54
... children on his knee , And winds their curls about his hand : He plays with threads , he beats his chair For pastime , dreaming of the sky ; His inner day can never die , His night of loss is always there . LXVI . WHEN on my bed the ...
... children on his knee , And winds their curls about his hand : He plays with threads , he beats his chair For pastime , dreaming of the sky ; His inner day can never die , His night of loss is always there . LXVI . WHEN on my bed the ...
Strana 56
... of thorns : They call'd me fool , they call'd me child : I found an angel of the night ; The voice was low , the look was bright ; He look'd upon my crown and smiled : He reach'd the glory of a hand , That seem'd 56 IN MEMORIAM .
... of thorns : They call'd me fool , they call'd me child : I found an angel of the night ; The voice was low , the look was bright ; He look'd upon my crown and smiled : He reach'd the glory of a hand , That seem'd 56 IN MEMORIAM .
Strana 67
... children on his knee , And winds their curls about his hand : He plays with threads , he beats his chair For pastime , dreaming of the sky ; His inner day can never die , His night of loss is always there . LXVI . WHEN on my bed the ...
... children on his knee , And winds their curls about his hand : He plays with threads , he beats his chair For pastime , dreaming of the sky ; His inner day can never die , His night of loss is always there . LXVI . WHEN on my bed the ...
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Časté výrazy a frázy
answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat Aylmer beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child dark dark moor dead dear death dream Dubric earth Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear feet flower follow'd Gawain Geraint golden gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven horse hour jousts Katie King knew land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look'd lord maid maiden martial music Maud Merlin morn moved never night noble o'er once passion peace poison'd Prince Queen Ring Ringlet rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star stood sweet Table Round talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro tower true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wood wrought
Populárne pasáže
Strana 73 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Strana 5 - 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.
Strana 181 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Strana 43 - 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 destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Strana 3 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Strana 182 - Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro...
Strana 160 - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers ; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows ; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses ; I linger by my shingly bars ; I loiter round my cresses ; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Strana 141 - She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, " She is late ; " The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers,
Strana 180 - O WELL for him whose will is strong ! He suffers, but he will not suffer long ; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong : For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. II. But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro...
Strana 140 - And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clash'd in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all ; From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That, whenever a March-wind sighs, He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet And the valleys of Paradise.