Poems, Volumen2Edward Moxon & Company, Dover Street, 1868 - 879 páginas |
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Página 148
... vext with his pride ! I past him , I was crossing his lands ; He stood on the path a little aside ; His face , as I grant , in spite of spite , Has a broad - blown comeliness , red and white , And six feet two , as I think , he stands ...
... vext with his pride ! I past him , I was crossing his lands ; He stood on the path a little aside ; His face , as I grant , in spite of spite , Has a broad - blown comeliness , red and white , And six feet two , as I think , he stands ...
Página 157
... felt she was slowly dying Vext with lawyers and harass'd with debt : For how often I caught her with eyes all wet , Shaking her head at her son and sighing A world of trouble within ! 4 . And Maud too , Maud was moved To MAUD . 157.
... felt she was slowly dying Vext with lawyers and harass'd with debt : For how often I caught her with eyes all wet , Shaking her head at her son and sighing A world of trouble within ! 4 . And Maud too , Maud was moved To MAUD . 157.
Página 160
... . XX . I. STRANGE , that I felt so gay , Strange , that I tried to - day To beguile her melancholy ; The Sultan , as we name him , She did not wish to blame him— But he vext her and perplext her With his worldly 160 MAUD .
... . XX . I. STRANGE , that I felt so gay , Strange , that I tried to - day To beguile her melancholy ; The Sultan , as we name him , She did not wish to blame him— But he vext her and perplext her With his worldly 160 MAUD .
Página 161
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. But he vext her and perplext her With his worldly talk and folly : Was it gentle to reprove her For stealing out of view From a little lazy lover Who but claims her as his due ? Or for chilling his ...
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. But he vext her and perplext her With his worldly talk and folly : Was it gentle to reprove her For stealing out of view From a little lazy lover Who but claims her as his due ? Or for chilling his ...
Página 184
... vext with him and her . ” How could I help her ? " Would I - was it wrong ? " ( Claspt hands and that petitionary grace Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke ) " O would I take her father for one hour 184 THE BROOK .
... vext with him and her . ” How could I help her ? " Would I - was it wrong ? " ( Claspt hands and that petitionary grace Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke ) " O would I take her father for one hour 184 THE BROOK .
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Términos y frases comunes
answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat Aylmer beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot chidden child dark dark moor dead dear death diamond dream Dubric earth Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear feet flower follow'd Gawain Geraint glory golden gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy head hear heard heart heaven horse hour jousts Katie King kiss'd knew land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look'd lord maid maiden martial music Maud Merlin morn moved never night noble o'er once passion peace poison'd Prince Queen Ring Ringlet rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star stood sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro tower true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wrought
Pasajes populares
Página 73 - 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 5 - 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 181 - 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. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Página 43 - 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 destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Página 3 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Página 182 - Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro...
Página 160 - 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 141 - She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, " She is late ; " The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers,
Página 180 - O WELL for him whose will is strong ! He suffers, but he will not suffer long ; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong : For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. II. But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro...
Página 140 - And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clash'd in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all ; From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That, whenever a March-wind sighs, He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet And the valleys of Paradise.