Choice Poems and LyricsWhittaker, 1862 - 317 páginas |
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Página 16
... face to face , A sharp and eager gaze , As if the memory sought to trace The sign of some lost dwelling - place Beloved in happier days ; Ah , what the clue supplies In the cold vigil of a hireling's eyes ? Ah , sad in childless age to ...
... face to face , A sharp and eager gaze , As if the memory sought to trace The sign of some lost dwelling - place Beloved in happier days ; Ah , what the clue supplies In the cold vigil of a hireling's eyes ? Ah , sad in childless age to ...
Página 54
... faces glancing clear From shade to ruddy light , quick flitting round him played . And aye some sly young thing , in ... face , Binding her days and nights in one continuous duty . When Sabbath came , she plucked him mint and thyme , And ...
... faces glancing clear From shade to ruddy light , quick flitting round him played . And aye some sly young thing , in ... face , Binding her days and nights in one continuous duty . When Sabbath came , she plucked him mint and thyme , And ...
Página 57
... face of the dead , And we bitterly thought on the morrow . We thought , as we hollowed his narrow bed , And smoothed down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ...
... face of the dead , And we bitterly thought on the morrow . We thought , as we hollowed his narrow bed , And smoothed down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ...
Página 59
... face looks forth , And bright dark eyes gaze steadfastly and sadly towards the north . Thou look'st in vain , sweet maiden , the sharpest sight . would fail , To spy a sign of human life abroad in all the vale ; For the noon is coming ...
... face looks forth , And bright dark eyes gaze steadfastly and sadly towards the north . Thou look'st in vain , sweet maiden , the sharpest sight . would fail , To spy a sign of human life abroad in all the vale ; For the noon is coming ...
Página 60
Choice poems. That white hand is withdrawn , that fair sad face is gone , But the music of that silver voice is flowing sweetly on , Not as of late , in cheerful tones , but mournfully and low , - A ballad of a tender maid heart - broken ...
Choice poems. That white hand is withdrawn , that fair sad face is gone , But the music of that silver voice is flowing sweetly on , Not as of late , in cheerful tones , but mournfully and low , - A ballad of a tender maid heart - broken ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Adelaide Anne Procter beauty beneath bird bless blest bloom Born bosom bower brave breast breath bright brow Casa Wappy charms cheerful cloud cold dark David Macbeth Moir dear death deep delight Died dost doth earth eternal eyes fair farewell fear flame flow flower gaze glory glowing grace grave green Grongar Hill hand happy hast hath heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hills hope hour King light Lochaber looked Lord lyre MARGUERITE OF FRANCE morning mother Mother's Love mourn nature's ne'er never Nevermore night o'er peace pleasure praise pride Queen Quoth the Raven rill rise rose round shade shore sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spring star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art throne toil trembling Twas vale voice waves weep wild William Shenstone wind wing Yarrow youth
Pasajes populares
Página 26 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Página 25 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Página 29 - thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore?
Página 28 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.' 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
Página 22 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Página 47 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Página 48 - Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Página 6 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Página 46 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Página 23 - And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "* Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.