Select Poems of Alfred Lord TennysonHoughton, Mifflin, 1895 - 264 páginas |
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Página 7
... LIGHT BRIGADE 152 THE REVENGE THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW . . 155 160 THE VOYAGE OF MAELDUNE THE POET'S SONG IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL LOVE AND DEATH NOTES 165 · 172 • 173 178 179 Courage , ' he said , and pointed toward the.
... LIGHT BRIGADE 152 THE REVENGE THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW . . 155 160 THE VOYAGE OF MAELDUNE THE POET'S SONG IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL LOVE AND DEATH NOTES 165 · 172 • 173 178 179 Courage , ' he said , and pointed toward the.
Página 12
... light dim , And broider'd sofas on each side . In sooth it was a goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Often , where clear - stemm'd platans guard The outlet , did I turn away The boat - head down a ...
... light dim , And broider'd sofas on each side . In sooth it was a goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Often , where clear - stemm'd platans guard The outlet , did I turn away The boat - head down a ...
Página 17
... light And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Them earthward till they lit ; Then , like the arrow - seeds of the field flower , The fruitful wit Cleaving took root , and springing forth anew Where'er they fell , behold , Like to the ...
... light And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Them earthward till they lit ; Then , like the arrow - seeds of the field flower , The fruitful wit Cleaving took root , and springing forth anew Where'er they fell , behold , Like to the ...
Página 22
... lights And music , went to Camelot : Or when the moon was overhead , Came two young lovers lately wed ; ' I am half - sick of shadows , ' said The Lady of Shalott . PART III . A BOW - SHOT from her bower - eaves , He rode between the ...
... lights And music , went to Camelot : Or when the moon was overhead , Came two young lovers lately wed ; ' I am half - sick of shadows , ' said The Lady of Shalott . PART III . A BOW - SHOT from her bower - eaves , He rode between the ...
Página 23
... light , Moves over still Shalott . His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd ; On burnish'd hooves his war - horse trode ; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal - black curls as on he rode , As he rode down to Camelot . From the bank ...
... light , Moves over still Shalott . His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd ; On burnish'd hooves his war - horse trode ; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal - black curls as on he rode , As he rode down to Camelot . From the bank ...
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Términos y frases comunes
ALFRED LORD TENNYSON Alfred Tennyson Arthur Hallam beautiful beneath boscage breath brook Camelot Cannon cloud dark daughter dead Dear mother Ida death deep dreams Enone Excalibur eyes fair fall floating flowers follows gleams glory golden prime hand happy Haroun Alraschid hath hear heard hearken ere heart heaven honor isle King Arthur knew Lady of Shalott land lawn light live Locksley Hall look look'd Lord mind moon morn never night o'er oxlip Palace of Art poem poet poet's Princess reading rest Rode the six roll'd rose round sail sail'd Saint Brendan says scorn seem'd shadow Shakespeare ship silent Sir Bedivere Sir Richard six hundred sleep song soul sound spake spirit stanza stars Stedman stood sweet tears Tennyson thee Theocritus thine things thou thought thro towers truth turn'd valley voice wild wind
Pasajes populares
Página 96 - There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me — That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old; Old age hath yet his...
Página 23 - Tirra lirra,' by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot.
Página 128 - My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.
Página 44 - Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness, And utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all things else have rest from weariness? All things have rest : why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things, And make perpetual moan, Still from one sorrow to another thrown : Nor ever fold our wings, And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm; Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings, ' There is no joy but calm ! ' Why should we only toil, the roof and crown...
Página 157 - And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no more — God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?...
Página 80 - The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Página 21 - PART II There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.
Página 95 - Little remains : but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge, like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
Página 99 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Página 243 - Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.