A Selection from the Poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning: First SeriesSmith, Elder, 1884 - 267 páginas |
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Página 1
... flowers and bees , In betwixt the country trees , And the sun the pleasure taught me Which he teacheth everything . If the rain fell , there was sorrow , Little head leant on the pane , Little finger drawing down it The long trailing ...
... flowers and bees , In betwixt the country trees , And the sun the pleasure taught me Which he teacheth everything . If the rain fell , there was sorrow , Little head leant on the pane , Little finger drawing down it The long trailing ...
Página 18
... first dew on the first flower ! But the first of all my losses was the losing of the bower . I have lost the dream of Doing , And the other dream of Done , The first spring in the pursuing , The first pride 18 THE LOST BOWER .
... first dew on the first flower ! But the first of all my losses was the losing of the bower . I have lost the dream of Doing , And the other dream of Done , The first spring in the pursuing , The first pride 18 THE LOST BOWER .
Página 55
... flowers on my knee . But the sound grew into word As the speakers drew more near- Sweet , forgive me that I heard What you wished me not to hear , Do not weep so , do not shake , Oh , I heard thee , Bertha , make Good true answers for ...
... flowers on my knee . But the sound grew into word As the speakers drew more near- Sweet , forgive me that I heard What you wished me not to hear , Do not weep so , do not shake , Oh , I heard thee , Bertha , make Good true answers for ...
Página 57
... flowers I bade you see , Were too withered for the bee , — As my life , henceforth , for me . -Dear -- heart - warm ! Do not weep so- All was best as it befell . If I say he did me harm , I speak wild , I am not well . All his words ...
... flowers I bade you see , Were too withered for the bee , — As my life , henceforth , for me . -Dear -- heart - warm ! Do not weep so- All was best as it befell . If I say he did me harm , I speak wild , I am not well . All his words ...
Página 76
... even mournful souls approve , For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly As to justify the foliage and the waving flowers above . And she talked on - we talked , rather ! 76 LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP .
... even mournful souls approve , For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly As to justify the foliage and the waving flowers above . And she talked on - we talked , rather ! 76 LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP .
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Términos y frases comunes
Adonis ÆSCHYLUS angels Ariadne Art thou Bacchus beauty beloved beneath beside bird bless breath brow calm CASTRUCCIO CASTRACANI cheek child Cimabue cloud cold crown Cytherea dark days go dear death deep divine doth dream drop dropt earth Emperor Evermore eyelids eyes face fair Florence flowers gazing glory God's grave hand harken head hear heart heaven hills holy Italy kiss knee lady laugh light lips live look love thee love's Margret METAMORPH mother mouth neath nightingales nosegay o'er pale Pan is dead PANDARUS poet praise pray prayer PSYCHE rose rose-tree round scorn shadow shining shout sigh sight silence sing sleep smile song soul sound spake spirit stand stars stood sweet sweetest sword tears Theseus thine things thou art thought Toll slowly trees tremble Tuscan twixt voice ween weep wind word Zeus
Pasajes populares
Página 125 - What would we give to our beloved ? The hero's heart, to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep, The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown, to light the brows ? " He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Página 144 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring, Through the coal-dark, underground; Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron 10 In the factories, round and round.
Página 6 - But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face. He will say: 'O Love, thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in, And I kneel here for thy grace.
Página 143 - is very dreary ;" " Our young feet," they say, "are very weak ! Few paces have we taken, yet are weary — Our grave-rest is very far to seek. Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children, For the outside earth is cold, And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering, And the graves are for the old. "True," say the children, " it may happen That we die before our time.
Página 215 - She never found fault with you, never implied Your wrong by her right ; and yet men at her side Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town The children were gladder that pulled at her gown — My Kate.
Página 264 - WHAT was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat • With the dragon-fly on the river? He tore out a reed, the great god Pan...
Página 133 - I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless ; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God's throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death : Most like a monumental statue set In everlasting watch and moveless woe, Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Página 128 - He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adoration; Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath taken.
Página 265 - He tore out a reed, the great God Pan, From the deep cool bed of the river : The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.
Página 117 - Like a lady's ringlets brown, Flow thy silken ears adown Either side demurely, Of thy silver-suited breast Shining out from all the rest Of thy body purely.