The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageMacmillan, 1889 - 405 páginas |
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Página 11
... thy sum of good : For nothing this wide universe I call , Save thou , my rose : in it thou art my all . W. Shakespeare O me , XIV T fair Friend , you never can be old , For as you were when first your eye I eyed Three winters cold Such ...
... thy sum of good : For nothing this wide universe I call , Save thou , my rose : in it thou art my all . W. Shakespeare O me , XIV T fair Friend , you never can be old , For as you were when first your eye I eyed Three winters cold Such ...
Página 15
... Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May , And summer's lease hath all too short a date : Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines , And often is his gold complexion dimm'd : And every fair ...
... Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May , And summer's lease hath all too short a date : Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines , And often is his gold complexion dimm'd : And every fair ...
Página 23
... Thy worth , despite his cruel hand . W. Shakespeare XXXI AREWELL ! thou art too dear for my possessing And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing , My bonds in thee are all determinate ...
... Thy worth , despite his cruel hand . W. Shakespeare XXXI AREWELL ! thou art too dear for my possessing And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing , My bonds in thee are all determinate ...
Página 29
Francis Turner Palgrave. Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above , What art thou but a harbinger of woe ? Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more , But orphans ' wailings to the fainting ear ; Each stroke a sigh , each sound ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above , What art thou but a harbinger of woe ? Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more , But orphans ' wailings to the fainting ear ; Each stroke a sigh , each sound ...
Página 32
Francis Turner Palgrave. XLII LOW , blow , thou winter wind , BLOW , As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen , Although thy breath be rude . Heigh ho ! sing heigh ho ! unto the green holly : Most ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. XLII LOW , blow , thou winter wind , BLOW , As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen , Although thy breath be rude . Heigh ho ! sing heigh ho ! unto the green holly : Most ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language Vista completa - 1863 |
Términos y frases comunes
adieu Love Arethuse beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek chidden clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory Gray green happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven Heigh hills Kirconnell kiss ladies leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry Rosaline rose round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree voice waly waly waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Pasajes populares
Página 22 - 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...
Página 174 - Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Página 76 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May; Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Página 21 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Página 353 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Página 356 - THE world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Página 6 - Under the Greenwood Tree Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Página 66 - Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. Who would not sing for Lycidas?
Página 91 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous, sweet, and fair.
Página 192 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.