Poetical Works, Volumen3Smith, Elder & Company, 1872 |
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning. MARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY FROM THE LIBRARY OF MERBERT WEHR SMYTH APR . 15 , 1941 CONTENTS . Page THE LOST BOWER A SONG AGAINST SINGING KC 3620.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. MARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY FROM THE LIBRARY OF MERBERT WEHR SMYTH APR . 15 , 1941 CONTENTS . Page THE LOST BOWER A SONG AGAINST SINGING KC 3620.
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning. CONTENTS . Page THE LOST BOWER A SONG AGAINST SINGING WINE OF CYPRUS 1 21 24 A RHAPSODY OF LIFE'S PROGRESS 32 A LAY OF THE EARLY ROSE 40 THE POET AND THE BIRD . A FABLE 49 THE CRY OF THE HUMAN 51 A PORTRAIT 57 ...
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. CONTENTS . Page THE LOST BOWER A SONG AGAINST SINGING WINE OF CYPRUS 1 21 24 A RHAPSODY OF LIFE'S PROGRESS 32 A LAY OF THE EARLY ROSE 40 THE POET AND THE BIRD . A FABLE 49 THE CRY OF THE HUMAN 51 A PORTRAIT 57 ...
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... sing of thus to you . XXI . ' Twas a bower for garden fitter Than for any woodland wide : Though a fresh and dewy glitter Struck it through from side to side , Shaped and shaven was the freshness , as by garden- cunning plied . XXII ...
... sing of thus to you . XXI . ' Twas a bower for garden fitter Than for any woodland wide : Though a fresh and dewy glitter Struck it through from side to side , Shaped and shaven was the freshness , as by garden- cunning plied . XXII ...
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... sings it not to me . XL . Never blackbirds , never thrushes Nor small finches sing as sweet , When the sun strikes through the bushes To their crimson clinging feet , And their pretty eyes look sideways to the summer heavens complete ...
... sings it not to me . XL . Never blackbirds , never thrushes Nor small finches sing as sweet , When the sun strikes through the bushes To their crimson clinging feet , And their pretty eyes look sideways to the summer heavens complete ...
Términos y frases comunes
angels Austria beatific beauty behold beneath bird bless blind bower breath brow calm Casa Guidi windows cheek chrism Cimabue cloud crown curse Cyprus wine Dante dark dear death divine doth dream drop earth evermore face fair feet Florence flowers gaze Giotto giveth His beloved glory God's golden gorses grave grow hand hast hear heart heaven holy hope insphere Italy kiss knee laugh leave life's light lips live look love thee love's Malvern Hills mother Naiads Neath never o'er once pale Pan is dead Petrarch pitiful poet poet's praise purple rose round sate shine shout sigh sight silence sing sleep smile snow song soul stand stone sweet Sweetest eyes tears Theocritus thine things thou art thought touch tremble truth turned Tuscan twixt VIII voice ween weep wilt thou go wind word
Pasajes populares
Página 230 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
Página 113 - And, friends, dear friends, — when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep, Let One, most loving of you all, Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall,' He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Página 201 - IF thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say ' I love her for her smile — her look — her way Of speaking gently, — for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day...
Página 112 - He giveth His beloved, sleep. 'Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eye-lids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Página 111 - 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 120 - Deserted ! who hath dreamt that when the cross in darkness rested Upon the victim's hidden face, no love was manifested ? What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the atoning drops averted ? What tears have washed them from the soul, that one should be deserted ? Deserted!
Página 150 - GODS of Hellas, gods of Hellas, Can ye listen in your silence ? Can your mystic voices tell us Where ye hide ? In floating islands, With a wind that evermore Keeps you out of sight of shore ? Pan, Pan is dead.
Página 28 - Oh, our Sophocles, the royal, Who was born to monarch's place, And who made the whole world loyal, Less by kingly power than grace ! Our Euripides, the human, With his droppings of warm tears, And his touches of things common Till they rose to touch the spheres...
Página 119 - Like a sick child that knoweth not his mother while she blesses And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses — That turns his fevered eyes around...
Página 51 - THERE is no God,' the foolish saith, But none, ' There is no sorrow,' And nature oft the cry of faith, In bitter need will borrow : Eyes, which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised, And lips say, ' God be pitiful,' Who ne'er said,