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The Hundred Best Poems (Lyrical) In the English Language (Classic Reprint)
Adam L. Gowans
No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2015
angels ANNABEL LEE beautiful beneath birds blue born breath bright bring child close cloud cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edition eyes faces fair fear feel fire flowers fresh give golden gone grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour John kisses land leal leaves lies light lips live look Lycidas mind morn Muse never night o'er once pale past peace praise remember rest rose round seen shade shore sigh silent sing sleep smiling soft song soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears Text thee thine things thou art thought trees true unseen voice waves weep wild winds wings woods youth
Página 49 - Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Página 70 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Página 50 - 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 107 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Página 77 - Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running,' Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Página 125 - O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; 10 But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Página 76 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, no And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 96 - 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...