Gems of Thought, and Flowers of FancyRichard Wright Procter Partridge, 1855 - 428 páginas |
Dentro del libro
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Página 20
... cold and blue , Her rosy cheek turn'd pale ! And some were hurried from the ball , And some came from the play ; And some were eating to the last , And some with wine were gay . And some were ravenous for food , And rais'd seditious ...
... cold and blue , Her rosy cheek turn'd pale ! And some were hurried from the ball , And some came from the play ; And some were eating to the last , And some with wine were gay . And some were ravenous for food , And rais'd seditious ...
Página 87
... cold . When even the very blossoms Around the fountain's brim , And forest walks can witness The love I bear to him . I would that I could utter My feelings without shame ; And tell him how I love him , Nor wrong AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 87.
... cold . When even the very blossoms Around the fountain's brim , And forest walks can witness The love I bear to him . I would that I could utter My feelings without shame ; And tell him how I love him , Nor wrong AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 87.
Página 91
... cold dust left mouldering here , And ' midst his tears the mourner thinks , Of joy beyond this troubled sphere . Yes ; if when beauty's dazzling mask Is gone , no other charms remain , Well may the heart desponding ask— " Why do we love ...
... cold dust left mouldering here , And ' midst his tears the mourner thinks , Of joy beyond this troubled sphere . Yes ; if when beauty's dazzling mask Is gone , no other charms remain , Well may the heart desponding ask— " Why do we love ...
Página 119
... cold . ' Quoth the landlord , Till now , I ne'er had a dispute ; I've let lodgings ten years ; I'm a baker to boot ; In airing your sheets , sir , my wife is no sloven ; And your bed is immediately over my oven . ' ' The oven ...
... cold . ' Quoth the landlord , Till now , I ne'er had a dispute ; I've let lodgings ten years ; I'm a baker to boot ; In airing your sheets , sir , my wife is no sloven ; And your bed is immediately over my oven . ' ' The oven ...
Página 127
... cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my wither'd heart ; the grave Dark and untimely met my view- And all for thee , vile yellow slave . Ha com'st thou now so late to mock A wanderer's banish'd heart forlorn , Now that his frame the ...
... cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my wither'd heart ; the grave Dark and untimely met my view- And all for thee , vile yellow slave . Ha com'st thou now so late to mock A wanderer's banish'd heart forlorn , Now that his frame the ...
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Otras ediciones - Ver todo
Gems of Thought, and Flowers of Fancy (Classic Reprint) Richard Wright Procter No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
beauty beneath bird bless bloom blue BORN bower breast breath bright brow calm cheek cheer child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep DIED dreams of old e'en earth EBENEZER ELLIOTT EMILY BRONTE eyes faded fair feel fled flowers fond gaze gentle glide glory grave green Grongar Hill hast hath heard heart heaven hope hour JOHN SCHOLES JOSEPH AUGUSTINE WADE LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON life's light lips live lonely look look'd lyre maiden morning mortal mother ne'er never night o'er once pale pass'd POEMS press'd Quoth the Raven rest ROBERT TANNAHILL round seem'd shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit star stream sweet tears tell thee thine thing THOMAS GASPEY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY thou thought toil tomb turn'd twas voice wandering wave weep wild WILLIAM PAYNTER wind wing young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 111 - The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve ; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long ! She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love and virgin shame ; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved — she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she stept — Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept.
Página 228 - Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Página 360 - ABOU BEN ADHEM — may his tribe increase — Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold And to the presence in the room he said: 'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered: 'The names of those who love the Lord.
Página 94 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never— nevermore.
Página 364 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Página 94 - But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking, "Nevermore.
Página 91 - Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Página 5 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist...
Página 191 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Página 386 - In a drear-nighted December Too happy, happy Tree Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity : The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.