Poems, Volumen2Wiley and Putnam, 1846 - 229 páginas |
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Resultados 1-5 de 47
Página 11
... upon the bough , Twining his thoughts to bloom upon his brow . Oh ! blest to see the flower in its seed , Before its leafy presence ; for indeed Leaves are but wings , on which the summer flies THE POET'S PORTION . 11 THE POET'S PORTION.
... upon the bough , Twining his thoughts to bloom upon his brow . Oh ! blest to see the flower in its seed , Before its leafy presence ; for indeed Leaves are but wings , on which the summer flies THE POET'S PORTION . 11 THE POET'S PORTION.
Página 12
Thomas Hood. Leaves are but wings , on which the summer flies , And each thing perishable fades and dies , Escap'd in thought ; but his rich thinkings be Like overflows of immortality . So that what there is steep'd shall perish never ...
Thomas Hood. Leaves are but wings , on which the summer flies , And each thing perishable fades and dies , Escap'd in thought ; but his rich thinkings be Like overflows of immortality . So that what there is steep'd shall perish never ...
Página 43
... wings , My faithless wand was wavering and weak , And slimy toads had trespass'd in our rings- The birds refused to sing for me — all things Disown'd their old allegiance to our spells ; The rude bees prick'd me with their rebel stings ...
... wings , My faithless wand was wavering and weak , And slimy toads had trespass'd in our rings- The birds refused to sing for me — all things Disown'd their old allegiance to our spells ; The rude bees prick'd me with their rebel stings ...
Página 45
... wings , that were so fine and thin , They scarce were seen against the Dryad's skin . XX . Then what a fear seized all the little rout ! Look how a flock of panick'd sheep will stare- And huddle close - and start - and wheel about ...
... wings , that were so fine and thin , They scarce were seen against the Dryad's skin . XX . Then what a fear seized all the little rout ! Look how a flock of panick'd sheep will stare- And huddle close - and start - and wheel about ...
Página 48
... wings , That made soft music at each little stir , But something louder than a bee's demur Before he lights upon a bunch of broom , And thus ' gan he with Saturn to confer , - And O his voice was sweet , touch'd with the gloom Of that ...
... wings , That made soft music at each little stir , But something louder than a bee's demur Before he lights upon a bunch of broom , And thus ' gan he with Saturn to confer , - And O his voice was sweet , touch'd with the gloom Of that ...
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Términos y frases comunes
amongst Barbican beauty bird bloom blue breath bright brow called Charles Lamb cheeks clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dream Dundee Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fancy fear fire flow'rs gaze gentle gloom gold golden green grief hair hand hath head heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hope human Jean Bertaut Kilmansegg lady leaves light Lincolnshire lips literary living look Lord Lord Byron LYCUS melancholy melodious falls mind Miss moral morning Naiad never night o'er once pale pity poor PUGSLEY raining music rich rose round Saturn shade shadows shine sighs sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee There's thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought trees turn turn'd Twas voice walk wave weep whilst wind wings young yure
Pasajes populares
Página 194 - Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Página 184 - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
Página 185 - Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — . Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Página 192 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Página 145 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main ; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
Página 112 - O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!
Página 84 - Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — The poets who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays...
Página 71 - Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch Turn, and return, indenting with the way ; Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay : For misery is trodden on by many, And being low never relieved by any.
Página 116 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is haunted...
Página 186 - Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing, Fix'd on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest. — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour...