Favourite English poems and poets1870 - 672 strán (strany) |
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Strana 7
English poems. company , and from whom emanates the idea of telling tales to pass the time of the journey pleasantly , in which whosoever acquits himself well , to him are the others to contribute for a supper at their journey's end ; to ...
English poems. company , and from whom emanates the idea of telling tales to pass the time of the journey pleasantly , in which whosoever acquits himself well , to him are the others to contribute for a supper at their journey's end ; to ...
Strana 12
... passing notice ; for there is little of the poetry of the reign of Henry VII . that has such an amount of originality and freshness about it as that of John Skelton , ( 1460 ) . That the poet was largely appreciated in his day is ...
... passing notice ; for there is little of the poetry of the reign of Henry VII . that has such an amount of originality and freshness about it as that of John Skelton , ( 1460 ) . That the poet was largely appreciated in his day is ...
Strana 21
... pass , In greater feast than Priam's son of Troy : Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour ! The large green courts where we were wont to hove , With eyes cast up into the Maiden Tower , And easy sighs such as folk draw in love ...
... pass , In greater feast than Priam's son of Troy : Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour ! The large green courts where we were wont to hove , With eyes cast up into the Maiden Tower , And easy sighs such as folk draw in love ...
Strana 37
... pass , with pleasure forward led , Joying to hear the birds ' sweet harmony , Which therein shrouded from the tempest dread , Seem'd in their song to scorn the cruel sky . Much can they praise the trees so straight and high , The ...
... pass , with pleasure forward led , Joying to hear the birds ' sweet harmony , Which therein shrouded from the tempest dread , Seem'd in their song to scorn the cruel sky . Much can they praise the trees so straight and high , The ...
Strana 41
... pass along Adown the lee that to them murmur'd low , As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue , Yet did by signs his glad affection show , Making his stream run slow . And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell ' Gan flock about ...
... pass along Adown the lee that to them murmur'd low , As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue , Yet did by signs his glad affection show , Making his stream run slow . And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell ' Gan flock about ...
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Časté výrazy a frázy
a-thynkynge beauty beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER blow born breast breath bright CHRISTOPHER MARLOW clouds CRESWICK dead dear death delight died doth dream E. H. WEHNERT E. M. WIMPERIS earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fame favourite fear flowers gentle GEORGE THOMAS glory grace grave green grief groves GUSTAVE Doré happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour Hudibras Inchcape Rock JOHN GILBERT JOSHUA SYLVESTER King lady light live Lochaber look Lord Lute Lycidas merry mind morn mother ne'er never night Nightingale o'er Palie Piers Ploughman pleasure poem poet poetry praise pray Queen rise rose round sche seem'd shade shepherd sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound swain tears tell thee thine thou art thought Twas voice waves weary Westminster Abbey wild wind youth
Populárne pasáže
Strana 318 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Strana 307 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Strana 304 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Strana 582 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The Vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." " And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so,
Strana 70 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Strana 419 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Strana 301 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Strana 299 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Strana 494 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun, Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ? Is DEATH that woman's mate ? Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold : Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice ; " The game is done ! I've won ! I've won ! " Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
Strana 552 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by ;...