Sonnets, Selected from English and American AuthorsHoughton Mifflin, 1916 - 113 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
beauty behold beneath birds blood breath bright Christina G cloud Company Dante Gabriel Rossetti dark dead dear death deep didst door dost doth dream earth Edmund Spenser Elizabeth Barrett Browning English eternal eyes face fair feet flowers gaze George Meredith glorious grace hand hast hath hear heard heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hour immortal Italian John Keats John Milton land leaves life's lines lips lone Lord love thee love's mighty moon murmurs never night o'er pale passion pause permission Petrarch poets praise publishers Reprinted from Poems rhyme scheme round scorn sestet shadows shine sight silence sing sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul sound Spenser Spring stars summer Surrey sweet tears Theodore Watts-Dunton thine things thou art thought trembling verse voice weary weep wild William Lisle Bowles William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind wings Wyatt
Pasajes populares
Página 11 - Since there's no help. come let us kiss and part: 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.
Página 15 - THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Página 17 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
Página 13 - WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Página 12 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Página 99 - If I should die, think only this of me : That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Página 16 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Página 11 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! 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.
Página 12 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
Página 30 - Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind — But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss?