A household book of English poetry, selected with notes by R.C. Trench |
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Página ix
It is impossible so to draw out the sweetness of it that it shall not still have as
much to yield us , or it may be more than it had at the beginning . How many
another book , once read , can yield no more pleasure or profit to usbut poems of
the ...
It is impossible so to draw out the sweetness of it that it shall not still have as
much to yield us , or it may be more than it had at the beginning . How many
another book , once read , can yield no more pleasure or profit to usbut poems of
the ...
Página 8
Anon . 75 VII MUNDUS QUALIS . What is the world ? tell , worldling , if thou know
it . If it be good , why do all ills o ' erflow it ? If it be bad , why dost thou like it so ? If
it be sweet , how comes it bitter then ? If it be bitter , what bewitcheth men ?
Anon . 75 VII MUNDUS QUALIS . What is the world ? tell , worldling , if thou know
it . If it be good , why do all ills o ' erflow it ? If it be bad , why dost thou like it so ? If
it be sweet , how comes it bitter then ? If it be bitter , what bewitcheth men ?
Página 18
I do confess thou ' rt sweet , but find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets , Thy
favours are but like the wind , That kisses everything it meets : And since thou can
with more than one , Thou ' rt worthy to be kissed by none . The morning ...
I do confess thou ' rt sweet , but find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets , Thy
favours are but like the wind , That kisses everything it meets : And since thou can
with more than one , Thou ' rt worthy to be kissed by none . The morning ...
Página 26
O so sweet is she ! Ben Jonson . XXIV . A BRIDAL SONG Roses , their sharp
spines beir . y gone , Not royal in their smells alone , But in their hue ; Maiden -
pinks , of odour faint ; Daisies smell - less , yet most quaint , And sweet thyme true
...
O so sweet is she ! Ben Jonson . XXIV . A BRIDAL SONG Roses , their sharp
spines beir . y gone , Not royal in their smells alone , But in their hue ; Maiden -
pinks , of odour faint ; Daisies smell - less , yet most quaint , And sweet thyme true
...
Página 27
Richard Chenevix Trench (abp. of Dublin). All , dear Nature ' s children sweet ,
Lie ' fore bride and bridegroom ' s feet , Blessing their sense ! Not an angel of the
air , Bird melodious , or bird fair , Be absent hence ! 20 The crow , the slanderous
...
Richard Chenevix Trench (abp. of Dublin). All , dear Nature ' s children sweet ,
Lie ' fore bride and bridegroom ' s feet , Blessing their sense ! Not an angel of the
air , Bird melodious , or bird fair , Be absent hence ! 20 The crow , the slanderous
...
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Términos y frases comunes
appear bear beauty beneath bird breath bright clear cloth clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edition English eyes face fair fall fear flowers give glory gone grace grave green grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hope hour John King land leaves less light lines live look Lord mind morn mother nature never night o'er once passed peace pleasure poem poet praise rest rise rose round seemed seen shine sight sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring stand stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn voice waves weep wild wind wonder woods youth
Pasajes populares
Página 215 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; Another came : nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Página 286 - Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth ! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Página 215 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Página 250 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 273 - Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened:— that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on.— Until. the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended. we are laid asleep In body. and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony. and the deep power of joy. We see into the life of things.
Página 345 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Página 144 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 70 (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.
Página 381 - 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 51 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Página 32 - Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free ; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, '° When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes: Now if thou would'st, when all have given...
Información bibliográfica
| Título | A household book of English poetry, selected with notes by R.C. Trench |
| Editor | Richard Chenevix Trench (abp. of Dublin) |
| Publicado | 1868 |
| Procedencia del original | Universidad de Oxford |
| Digitalizado | 7 Ago. 2006 |
| Exportar cita | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |