The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet LaureateHoughton, Mifflin, 1881 - 426 páginas |
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Página xiv
... head ; Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign The summer calm of golden charity , Were fixed shadows of thy fixed mood , Revered Isabel , the crown and head , The stately flower of female fortitude , Of perfect wifehood , and pure ...
... head ; Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign The summer calm of golden charity , Were fixed shadows of thy fixed mood , Revered Isabel , the crown and head , The stately flower of female fortitude , Of perfect wifehood , and pure ...
Página 10
... head From the green that folds thy grave Let them rave . 4 . Crocodiles wept tears for thee ; The woodbine and eglatere Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear . Let them rave . Rain makes music in the tree O'er the green that folds thy ...
... head From the green that folds thy grave Let them rave . 4 . Crocodiles wept tears for thee ; The woodbine and eglatere Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear . Let them rave . Rain makes music in the tree O'er the green that folds thy ...
Página 21
... head : O the Earl was fair to see ! : I kiss'd his eyelids into rest : His ruddy cheek upon my breast . The wind is raging in turret and tree . I hated him with the hate of hell , But I loved his beauty passing well . O the Earl was ...
... head : O the Earl was fair to see ! : I kiss'd his eyelids into rest : His ruddy cheek upon my breast . The wind is raging in turret and tree . I hated him with the hate of hell , But I loved his beauty passing well . O the Earl was ...
Página 27
... head in the long and pleasant grass . I have been wild and wayward , but you'll forgive me now ; You'll kiss me , my own mother , and forgive me ere I go ; Nay , nay , you must not weep , nor let your grief be wild , You should not fret ...
... head in the long and pleasant grass . I have been wild and wayward , but you'll forgive me now ; You'll kiss me , my own mother , and forgive me ere I go ; Nay , nay , you must not weep , nor let your grief be wild , You should not fret ...
Página 33
... head , When midnight bells cease ringing suddenly , And the old year is dead . " Alas ! alas ! " a low voice , full of care , Murmur'd beside me : " Turn and look on me : I am that Rosamond , whom men call fair , If what I was I be ...
... head , When midnight bells cease ringing suddenly , And the old year is dead . " Alas ! alas ! " a low voice , full of care , Murmur'd beside me : " Turn and look on me : I am that Rosamond , whom men call fair , If what I was I be ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Aldwyth answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Bagenhall beneath blood breath brows Caerleon call'd Camelot child cried Dagonet dark dead dear death dream earth Edith ev'n Excalibur eyes face fair father fear fire flower Gardiner Gareth Gawain golden grace Guinevere hall hand happy Harold hast hate hath head hear heard heart heaven holy jousts King King Arthur kiss knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine Leofwin light Limours lips live look look'd Lord maiden Mary Merlin moon Morcar morn mother move never night noble o'er once Philip Prince Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul Spain spake speak star stept Stigand stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro Tostig turn'd vext voice wild wind
Pasajes populares
Página 90 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story ; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Página 90 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Página 56 - Myself not least, but honor'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Página 56 - A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me, That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed...
Página 161 - 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.
Página 55 - ULYSSES It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Thro...
Página 136 - 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. But in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream, and hold it true; For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, I cannot think the thing farewell.
Página 90 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Página 266 - For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Página 39 - Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : " What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ?' And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : " I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds.