Collected PoemsK. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Company, Limited, 1913 - 678 páginas |
Contenido
3 | |
47 | |
90 | |
97 | |
121 | |
127 | |
134 | |
140 | |
146 | |
154 | |
161 | |
170 | |
178 | |
185 | |
196 | |
203 | |
209 | |
215 | |
249 | |
256 | |
263 | |
269 | |
275 | |
279 | |
298 | |
316 | |
323 | |
347 | |
360 | |
367 | |
381 | |
387 | |
394 | |
402 | |
453 | |
459 | |
463 | |
469 | |
476 | |
490 | |
502 | |
509 | |
517 | |
527 | |
528 | |
543 | |
577 | |
583 | |
590 | |
597 | |
604 | |
610 | |
616 | |
623 | |
628 | |
636 | |
662 | |
674 | |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
anfractuosity Autonoë BALLAD Bard BEAU BROCADE beauty Belle beneath beside bird Caliph CARDENIO CHARLES GEORGE GORDON Child clear Cyclops dance dead dear Dolly doubt dreams E'en eyes face fair fancy fate flowers FRANK garden grace grew grow hair hand head hear heard heart hope JOLICŒUR knew ladies of St LADY laughed light link-boy lips little Blue-Ribbons look Love's Madame maid Marquise Megalopolis MOLIÈRE Molly Trefusis Monsieur morning Muse naught night o'er old Sedan chair OMAR OMAR KHAYYÁM once pain pass Perchance PHIDYLE Phyllida play POET poor POPE praise pure song rhyme Rose round scarce Sedan chair seemed sing smile song soul Squire surely sweet tale thee Theocritus There's thing thou thought thrush to-day truth turn Twas twixt Vauxhall verse wait watch weary wonder words young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 210 - Wear satin on their backs; They sit all night at Ombre, With candles all of wax: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She dons her russet gown, And runs to gather May dew Before the world is down.
Página 218 - And a pinch from the Cure's box. There is also a word that no one heard To the furrier's daughter Lou ; And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red, And a "Bon Dieu garde M'sieu!" But a grander way for the Sous-Prefet, And a bow for Ma'amselle Anne, And a mock "off-hat" to the Notary's cat, And a nod to the Sacristan.
Página 148 - HERE in this leafy place Quiet he lies, Cold, with his sightless face Turned to the skies • 'Tis but another dead; All you can say is said. Carry his body hence,— Kings must have slaves; Kings climb to eminence Over men's graves: So this man's eye is dim;— Throw the earth over him.
Página 316 - Blest! — but more blest, whom Summer's heat, Whom Spring's impulsive stir and beat, Have taught no feverish lure; Whose Muse, benignant and serene, Still keeps his Autumn chaplet green Because his verse is pure! Lie calm, O white and laureate head! Lie calm, O Dead, that art not dead, Since from the voiceless grave, Thy voice shall speak to old and young While song yet speaks an English tongue By Charles' or Thamis
Página 146 - HE had played for his lordship's levee, He had played for her ladyship's whim, Till the poor little head was heavy, And the poor little brain would swim. And the face grew peaked and eerie, And the large eyes strange and bright, And they said — too late — " He is weary ! He shall rest for, at least, To-night...
Página 4 - So trim it was. The yew-trees still, With pious care perverted, Grew in the same grim shapes ; and still The lipless dolphin spurted ; • Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo ; And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow.
Página 97 - read " three hours. Both notes and text Were fast a mist becoming ; In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed, And filled the room with humming, Then out. The casement's leafage sways, And, parted light, discloses Miss Di., with hat and book, — a maze Of muslin mixed with roses. " You're reading Greek?" " I am — and you?" " O, mine's a mere romancer ! "
Página 161 - A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, — Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, — And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, — Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips ; Sing red, red roses, — And my Love's lips.
Página 493 - No. For while yet in tower or cot Your story stirs the pulses' play ; And men forget the sordid lot — The sordid care, of cities gray ; — While yet, beset in homelier fray, They learn from you the lesson plain That Life may go, so Honour stay, — The deeds you wrought are not in vain ! ENVOY.
Página 7 - You had no thought or presage Into what keeping you dismissed Your simple old-world message! A reverent one. Though we to-day Distrust beliefs and powers, The artless, ageless things you say Are fresh as May's own flowers, Starring some pure primeval spring, Ere Gold had grown despotic, — Ere Life was yet a selfish thing, Or Love a mere exotic!