Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose, Volumen 2 |
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Página 419
At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work;
-and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. 24 Not blither is the mountain roe: With
many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like ...
At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work;
-and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. 24 Not blither is the mountain roe: With
many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like ...
Página 425
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's
kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan
or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with ...
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's
kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan
or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with ...
Página 429
He holds him with his skinny hand, “There was a ship,” quoth he. “Hold off!
unhand me, gray-beard loon!” Eftsoonsi his hand dropt he. 10 He holds him with
his glittering eye— The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years'
child: ...
He holds him with his skinny hand, “There was a ship,” quoth he. “Hold off!
unhand me, gray-beard loon!” Eftsoonsi his hand dropt he. 10 He holds him with
his glittering eye— The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years'
child: ...
Página 432
I fear thy skinny hand And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed
sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown.”— “
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! This body dropt not down. 231 Alone,
alone ...
I fear thy skinny hand And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed
sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown.”— “
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! This body dropt not down. 231 Alone,
alone ...
Página 435
490 This seraph-band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood
as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; This seraph-band, each waved his
hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music ...
490 This seraph-band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood
as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; This seraph-band, each waved his
hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music ...
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Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose Alphonso Gerald Newcomer,Alice Ebba Andrews Vista de fragmentos - 1910 |
Términos y frases comunes
arms beauty breath bright brother close cloud comes dark dead dear death deep dreams earth eyes face fair fall fear feel feet fire flowers follow give gone green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Italy King lady land leaves less light lips live look Lord mind morning Mother move nature never night o'er once pass past Persian poor rest rise rose round seemed seen ship side sing sleep song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strange stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thought tree turn voice waves whole wild wind wonder young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 426 - Hence in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore...
Página 427 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Página 490 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 584 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, 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 457 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.— But hark!
Página 419 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy.
Página 478 - 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 noonday 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. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Página 417 - I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.— That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures.
Página 427 - EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will:...
Página 479 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Información bibliográfica
| Título | Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose, Volumen 2 Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose, Alphonso Gerald Newcomer |
| Compilado por | Alphonso Gerald Newcomer |
| Editor | Scott, Foresman, 1910 |
| Procedencia del original | la Biblioteca Pública de Nueva York |
| Digitalizado | 2 Nov 2006 |
| Exportar cita | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |