The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate, Etc: Complete in Two Volumes, Volumen2Ticknor and Fields, 1861 |
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Página 13
... rest beneath the clover sod , That takes the sunshine and the rains , Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of God , Than if with thee the roaring wells Should gulf him fathom deep in brine ; And hands so often ...
... rest beneath the clover sod , That takes the sunshine and the rains , Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of God , Than if with thee the roaring wells Should gulf him fathom deep in brine ; And hands so often ...
Página 14
... rest , And dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep . XII . Lo ! as a dove when up she springs , To bear through Heaven a tale of woe , Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings ; Like ...
... rest , And dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep . XII . Lo ! as a dove when up she springs , To bear through Heaven a tale of woe , Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings ; Like ...
Página 19
... rest , And in the places of his youth . Come , then , pure hands , and bear the head That sleeps or wears the mask of sleep ; And come , whatever loves to weep , And hear the ritual of the dead . Ah ! yet , even yet , if this might be ...
... rest , And in the places of his youth . Come , then , pure hands , and bear the head That sleeps or wears the mask of sleep ; And come , whatever loves to weep , And hear the ritual of the dead . Ah ! yet , even yet , if this might be ...
Página 20
... rests below , And , since the grasses round me wave , I take the grasses of the grave , And make them pipes whereon to blow . The traveller hears me now and then , And sometimes harshly will he speak : " This fellow would make weakness ...
... rests below , And , since the grasses round me wave , I take the grasses of the grave , And make them pipes whereon to blow . The traveller hears me now and then , And sometimes harshly will he speak : " This fellow would make weakness ...
Página 25
... rest . I hold it true , whate'er befall ; I feel it , when I sorrow most ; " T is better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all . XXVIII . THE time draws near the birth of Christ : The moon is hid ; the night is still ...
... rest . I hold it true , whate'er befall ; I feel it , when I sorrow most ; " T is better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all . XXVIII . THE time draws near the birth of Christ : The moon is hid ; the night is still ...
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Términos y frases comunes
50 cents 75 cents answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child Cloth court cried dark dead dear death diamond dream Dubric Earl earth Edyrn Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear feet flower FUREIDIS Gawain Geraint gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy hear heard heart Heaven horse hour jousts King knew knight land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look look'd lord maid maiden Maud Merlin Modred morn moving never noble o'er once passion peace POEMS poison'd Prince Queen rest Ring rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star sweet Table Round thee thine things thou thought thro true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wood word wrought
Pasajes populares
Página 178 - Came thro' the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
Página 82 - 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.
Página 139 - She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Página 7 - 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.
Página 139 - The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tree * The white lake-blossom fell into the lake, As the pimpernel dozed on the lea ; But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me ; The lilies and roses were all awake, They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Página 155 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling ; And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I...
Página 37 - THAT each, who seems a separate whole. Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet : Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside ; And I shall know him when we meet...
Página 159 - 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.
Página 94 - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen ! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Página 41 - 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 destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...