Poems of Places: England and Wales, Volumen2Henry Wadsworth Longfellow J.R. Osgood and Company, 1876 |
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Página 20
... lonely road ; And many thousands now are sad , Wait the fulfilment of their fear ; For he must die who is their stay , Their glory disappear . - A power is passing from the earth To breathless Nature's 20- POEMS OF PLACES .
... lonely road ; And many thousands now are sad , Wait the fulfilment of their fear ; For he must die who is their stay , Their glory disappear . - A power is passing from the earth To breathless Nature's 20- POEMS OF PLACES .
Página 29
... thousand thrones , Seats of glad instinct and love's carolling , The concert , for the happy , then may vie With liveliest peals of birthday harmony ; To a grieved heart the notes are benisons . William Wordsworth . ΜΥ Grisedale ...
... thousand thrones , Seats of glad instinct and love's carolling , The concert , for the happy , then may vie With liveliest peals of birthday harmony ; To a grieved heart the notes are benisons . William Wordsworth . ΜΥ Grisedale ...
Página 49
... trees : What misty legends round him cling ! How lavishly he once did fling His acorns to the breeze ! To strike a thousand roots in fame , To give HATFIELD BROADOAK . 49 . HATFIELD BROADOAK THE OLD OAK-TREE AT HATFIELD BROADOAK F Locker.
... trees : What misty legends round him cling ! How lavishly he once did fling His acorns to the breeze ! To strike a thousand roots in fame , To give HATFIELD BROADOAK . 49 . HATFIELD BROADOAK THE OLD OAK-TREE AT HATFIELD BROADOAK F Locker.
Página 50
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. To strike a thousand roots in fame , To give the district half its name , The fiat could not hinder ; Last spring he put forth one green bough , The red leaves hang there still , — but now His very props are ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. To strike a thousand roots in fame , To give the district half its name , The fiat could not hinder ; Last spring he put forth one green bough , The red leaves hang there still , — but now His very props are ...
Página 55
... thousand veins , Poor and past use , in age resigned To ruin like our human kind , And now and then o'erwhelming all , Midst sullen thunder , in their fall ; Above the moorlands , brown and shorn , On whose rough beds the winds are born ...
... thousand veins , Poor and past use , in age resigned To ruin like our human kind , And now and then o'erwhelming all , Midst sullen thunder , in their fall ; Above the moorlands , brown and shorn , On whose rough beds the winds are born ...
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Términos y frases comunes
ABBEY ancient arch behold bells beneath breast breath breeze brow calm clouds crown Cusha dark days of yore dead death deep doth dream dwell earth eyes fair gazed gleam gliding glory GRASMERE grave gray green HADDON HALL hall hand happy hath HATHERN hear heard heart heaven Helvellyn Henry Alford hill holy hour INGLEWOOD FOREST James Payn King light London lonely look Lord mighty MONGEWELL mountain mourned NETLEY ABBEY NEWSTEAD ABBEY night Nore o'er once pass peace Praise rise roar Robert Southey Robert Stephen Hawker rock rolled round Saint scene shade shine sight silent Sir Walter sleep smile solemn song soul sound spot stone stood stream street sweet thee thine Thomas Tickell thou thought tomb towers trees uppe vale voice vulgar Boy walls wave Whittington wild William Lisle Bowles William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind woods
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Página 60 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Página 34 - MY HEART aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Página 175 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Página 35 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Página 154 - THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a thrush that sings loud — it has sung for three years ; Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the bird. Tis a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Página 234 - The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks! For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall. They are here! They rush on! We are broken! We are gone! Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. O Lord, put forth Thy might! O Lord, defend the right! Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to the last!
Página 153 - ON THE DEATH OF DR, LEV KIT. CONDEMNED to hope's delusive mine, As on we toil from day to day, By sudden blasts, or slow decline, Our social comforts drop away. Well tried through many a varying year, See Levett to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend.
Página 117 - Receding and speeding, And shocking and rocking, And darting and parting, And threading and spreading, And whizzing and hissing, And dripping and skipping, And hitting and splitting, And shining and twining, And rattling and battling, And shaking and...
Página 36 - 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...
Página 91 - I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. 'Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!' calling, Ere the early dews were falling, Farre away I heard her song. 'Cusha! Cusha!