The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet LaureateHoughton, Mifflin, 1881 - 426 páginas |
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Página 9
... speak sweet words : O listen , listen , your eyes shall glisten With pleasure and love and jubilee : O listen , listen , your eyes shall glisten When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords Runs up the ridged sea . Who can light on ...
... speak sweet words : O listen , listen , your eyes shall glisten With pleasure and love and jubilee : O listen , listen , your eyes shall glisten When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords Runs up the ridged sea . Who can light on ...
Página 11
... speak , And then the tears run down my cheek , Oriana : What wantest thou ? whom dost thou seek , Oriana ? I cry aloud : none hear my cries , Oriana . Thou comest atween me and the skies , Oriana . I feel the tears of blood arise Up ...
... speak , And then the tears run down my cheek , Oriana : What wantest thou ? whom dost thou seek , Oriana ? I cry aloud : none hear my cries , Oriana . Thou comest atween me and the skies , Oriana . I feel the tears of blood arise Up ...
Página 17
... speak , The lanes , you know , were white with May , Your ripe lips moved not , but your cheek Flush'd like the coming of the day ; And so it was - half - sly , half - shy , You would , and would not , little one ! Although I pleaded ...
... speak , The lanes , you know , were white with May , Your ripe lips moved not , but your cheek Flush'd like the coming of the day ; And so it was - half - sly , half - shy , You would , and would not , little one ! Although I pleaded ...
Página 19
... speak , and build up all My sorrow with my song , as yonder walls Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed , A cloud that gather'd shape : for it may be That , while I speak of it , a little while My heart may wander from its deeper woe ...
... speak , and build up all My sorrow with my song , as yonder walls Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed , A cloud that gather'd shape : for it may be That , while I speak of it , a little while My heart may wander from its deeper woe ...
Página 20
... speak my mind , And tell her to her face how much I hate Her presence , hated both of Gods and mer .. " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times . In this green valley , under this green hill ...
... speak my mind , And tell her to her face how much I hate Her presence , hated both of Gods and mer .. " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times . In this green valley , under this green hill ...
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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.