Beauties of English LandscapeGeorge Routledge and Sons, 1874 - 301 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 15
Página x
... blue shades the cliffs aspire , With towers and woods , a " prospect all on fire " We met in secret , in the depth of night When there was none to watch us Alas ! how changed from the fair scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay I ...
... blue shades the cliffs aspire , With towers and woods , a " prospect all on fire " We met in secret , in the depth of night When there was none to watch us Alas ! how changed from the fair scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay I ...
Página xi
... blue How glorious is thy girdle cast O'er mountain , tower , and town Now who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side , a shepherd boy ? While to my fond words she listened 90 ཌ 91 93 3335 95 96 97 99 ΙΟΙ 103 105 107 CONTENTS AND ...
... blue How glorious is thy girdle cast O'er mountain , tower , and town Now who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side , a shepherd boy ? While to my fond words she listened 90 ཌ 91 93 3335 95 96 97 99 ΙΟΙ 103 105 107 CONTENTS AND ...
Página 8
... blue eyes glancing From thy founts of light and glee , And thy little feet go dancing Like the waves upon the sea ! Tossing from thy snowy shoulder Golden curls with witching grace , Charming every new beholder . With thine arch ...
... blue eyes glancing From thy founts of light and glee , And thy little feet go dancing Like the waves upon the sea ! Tossing from thy snowy shoulder Golden curls with witching grace , Charming every new beholder . With thine arch ...
Página 12
... blue , To dip the scythe in fragrant dew ; The sheaf to bind , the beech to fell , That nodding shades a craggy dell . ' Midst gloomy glades , in warbles clear , Wild Nature's sweetest notes they hear : On green untrodden banks they ...
... blue , To dip the scythe in fragrant dew ; The sheaf to bind , the beech to fell , That nodding shades a craggy dell . ' Midst gloomy glades , in warbles clear , Wild Nature's sweetest notes they hear : On green untrodden banks they ...
Página 16
... blue - bell flowers hath got , Laughing and creeping through the mossy rails ; There have I hunted like a very boy , Creeping on hands and knees through matted thorn , To find her nest , and see her feed her young , And vainly did I ...
... blue - bell flowers hath got , Laughing and creeping through the mossy rails ; There have I hunted like a very boy , Creeping on hands and knees through matted thorn , To find her nest , and see her feed her young , And vainly did I ...
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Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Beauties of English Landscape (Classic Reprint) Myles Birket Foster Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
Astòr beam beauty behold beneath birds blessed bloom blue bosom boughs bower breathe bright brook BROTHERS calm Canst thou forget cliffs clouds Coloured cottage DALZIEL BROTHERS dark dear deep delight doth dream earth EDMUND EVANS ELIZA COOK fair fear flowers gentle gilt edges gleam glide gloom Grasmere grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy harebells hath heard heart heaven Helpmate HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour hung lassie light live lofty lonely look Maire bhan Astor merry morning mossy mountain murmur night o'er pleasure rills rocks round rove scene shade shepherd shines shore side sight silence sing skies sleep smile snow soft solitude song sorrow soul spread Spring steep stone stood stream summer tears thine thou art thoughts trees vale village voice wandering waters waves wild winds winter woods WORDSWORTH Yarrow youth
Pasajes populares
Página 14 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Página 50 - 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 236 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings ; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised...
Página 200 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Página 56 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Página 56 - Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Página 30 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Página 232 - My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard, Thus fares it still in our decay; And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
Página 222 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Página 122 - NUNS fret not at their Convent's narrow room ; And Hermits are contented with their Cells ; And Students with their pensive Citadels : Maids at the Wheel, the Weaver at his Loom, Sit blithe and happy; Bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Pea.k of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in Foxglove bells : In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...