English Sonnets by Poets of the PastSamuel Waddington G. Bell and Sons, 1888 - 238 páginas |
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Página 12
... breath , When , his pulse failing , Passion speechless lies , When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death , And Innocence is closing up his eyes , Now , if thou would'st , when all have given him over , From death to life thou might'st ...
... breath , When , his pulse failing , Passion speechless lies , When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death , And Innocence is closing up his eyes , Now , if thou would'st , when all have given him over , From death to life thou might'st ...
Página 13
... breathing zephyr in the spring Gently distils his nectar - dropping showers , Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing , Amongst the dainty dew - impearled flowers ; Say thus , fair Brook , when thou shalt see thy queen , Lo , here thy ...
... breathing zephyr in the spring Gently distils his nectar - dropping showers , Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing , Amongst the dainty dew - impearled flowers ; Say thus , fair Brook , when thou shalt see thy queen , Lo , here thy ...
Página 17
... breath their maskéd buds discloses : But , for their virtue only is their show , They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade ; Die to themselves . Sweet roses do not so ; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : And so of you ...
... breath their maskéd buds discloses : But , for their virtue only is their show , They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade ; Die to themselves . Sweet roses do not so ; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : And so of you ...
Página 22
... breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my Love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed . The Lily I condemnéd for thy hand , And buds of Marjoram had stolen thy hair : The Roses fearfully on thorns did ...
... breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my Love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed . The Lily I condemnéd for thy hand , And buds of Marjoram had stolen thy hair : The Roses fearfully on thorns did ...
Página 33
... breath embalmed thy wholesome air , Is gone ; nor gold , nor gems her can restore . Neglected Virtue , seasons go and come , While thine , forgot , lie closëd in a tomb . D WILLIAM DRUMMOND . :: & BEFORE A POEM OF IRENE . OURN not BY ...
... breath embalmed thy wholesome air , Is gone ; nor gold , nor gems her can restore . Neglected Virtue , seasons go and come , While thine , forgot , lie closëd in a tomb . D WILLIAM DRUMMOND . :: & BEFORE A POEM OF IRENE . OURN not BY ...
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Términos y frases comunes
beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON bird bowers breath bright brow CHARLES Strong CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER cheer clouds composition dark dear death deep delight didst doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ENGLISH SONNETS eternal eyes fade fair favour fear flowers gentle gleam gloom glorious glory golden grace green grief happy HARTLEY Coleridge hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly honour hope JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON life's light lonely look Lord love thee Love's mighty mind morn mourn murmur Muse never night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poems poet praise round SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirits Spring star streams summer sweet tears thine things THOMAS THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tomb unto verse voice waves weep wild WILLIAM DRUMMOND WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing youth
Pasajes populares
Página 187 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Página 16 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
Página 17 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses...
Página 83 - Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies ; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish ; — be it so ! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour ; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Página 24 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Página 40 - I write of youth, of love, and have access By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness ; I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece, Of balm, of oil, of spice, and amber-greece ; I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I write How roses first came red, and lilies white.
Página 121 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Página 12 - Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Página 18 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,— As, to behold Desert a beggar born, And needy Nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest Faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded Honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden Virtue rudely strumpeted, And right Perfection wrongfully disgraced, And Strength by limping sway disabled, And Art made tongue-tied by Authority...
Página 49 - LAWRENCE ! of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining ? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.