The Poetic Old-world: A Little Book for TouristsH. Holt, 1908 - 513 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 39
Página ix
... LIVE IN LONDON • · R. Leighton . 59 60 · ST . MARGARET'S BELLS UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY • IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY • 62 F. Beaumont • · T. B. Aldrich • 333 62 63 THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN W ...
... LIVE IN LONDON • · R. Leighton . 59 60 · ST . MARGARET'S BELLS UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY • IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY • 62 F. Beaumont • · T. B. Aldrich • 333 62 63 THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN W ...
Página 2
... , And nought but love is wanting ; We think how great had been our bliss If heaven had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this , With some we've left behind us ! Thomas Moore . En Route ( From Amours de Voyage ) OVER the.
... , And nought but love is wanting ; We think how great had been our bliss If heaven had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this , With some we've left behind us ! Thomas Moore . En Route ( From Amours de Voyage ) OVER the.
Página 3
... live in , Whithersoever we turn , still is the same narrow crib ; ' Tis but to prove limitation , and measure a cord , that we travel ; Let who would ' scape and be free go to his chamber and think ; ' Tis but to change idle fancies for ...
... live in , Whithersoever we turn , still is the same narrow crib ; ' Tis but to prove limitation , and measure a cord , that we travel ; Let who would ' scape and be free go to his chamber and think ; ' Tis but to change idle fancies for ...
Página 17
... wakes , The only throb she gives , Is when some heart indignant breaks , To show that she still lives . Thomas Moore . C The Lake Isle of Innisfree ( Innisfree , Lough Gill TARA 17 Tara THE HARP THAT ONCE, THRO' TARA'S HALLS Thomas Moore.
... wakes , The only throb she gives , Is when some heart indignant breaks , To show that she still lives . Thomas Moore . C The Lake Isle of Innisfree ( Innisfree , Lough Gill TARA 17 Tara THE HARP THAT ONCE, THRO' TARA'S HALLS Thomas Moore.
Página 18
... live alone in the bee - loud glade . And I shall have some peace there , for peace comes dropping slow , Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings ; There midnight's all a glimmer , and noon a purple · glow , And ...
... live alone in the bee - loud glade . And I shall have some peace there , for peace comes dropping slow , Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings ; There midnight's all a glimmer , and noon a purple · glow , And ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Alfred Tennyson beauty bells beneath Bingen blue Bouillabaisse breast breath bright brow Bruges calm Camelot Carcassonne castle Church cried dark dead dear deep dream earth eyes fair flowers Francesco Petrarca gazed German's fatherland Gilpin gleam golden grave gray green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Heinrich Heine Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hills hour Ist's king Lady of Shalott Lake land light live look Lord Lord Byron Matthew Arnold mighty morning mountain never night o'er once pass pines rats Rhine river Robert Southey rocks round Rüdesheim Saint shadow shine shore silent sing sleep smile song soul sound stone stood stream street sweet tell thee Thomas Bailey Aldrich thou thought thro tout tower town trees Twas Vaucluse voice walls waters waves wild William Wordsworth wind wonder woods youth δὲ ἐν καὶ
Pasajes populares
Página 326 - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Página 246 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
Página 475 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations — all were his ! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set, where were they?
Página 102 - Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence...
Página 248 - Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God...
Página 79 - THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; — on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Página 54 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, •*- The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Página 79 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Página 472 - Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
Página 18 - I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made ; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.