Beauties of English LandscapeGeorge Routledge and Sons, 1874 - 301 páginas |
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Resultados 1-5 de 17
Página xii
... stood together The downy feather on the cordage hung Moves not ; the flat sea shines like yellow gold With thee , my friend , I oftentimes have sped , To see the sun rise from his healthy bed The clouds that gather round the setting sun ...
... stood together The downy feather on the cordage hung Moves not ; the flat sea shines like yellow gold With thee , my friend , I oftentimes have sped , To see the sun rise from his healthy bed The clouds that gather round the setting sun ...
Página xiii
... 182 While gently rolls the stream along The peaceful valley's side 185 Safe from the stream the nearer gunwale stands , Where playful children trail their idle hands 187 CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS . When stood the shortened herds amid xiii.
... 182 While gently rolls the stream along The peaceful valley's side 185 Safe from the stream the nearer gunwale stands , Where playful children trail their idle hands 187 CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS . When stood the shortened herds amid xiii.
Página xiv
CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS . When stood the shortened herds amid the tide Nature around kept jubilee When first I breathed that tale to thee ! He told me that he to this pond had come To gather leeches , being old and poor And soon he ...
CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS . When stood the shortened herds amid the tide Nature around kept jubilee When first I breathed that tale to thee ! He told me that he to this pond had come To gather leeches , being old and poor And soon he ...
Página 28
... stood alone , Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall , While half an hour went by , the Priest had sent Many a long look of wonder ; and at last , Risen from his seat , beside the snow - white ridge Of carded wool which the old man ...
... stood alone , Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall , While half an hour went by , the Priest had sent Many a long look of wonder ; and at last , Risen from his seat , beside the snow - white ridge Of carded wool which the old man ...
Página 42
... stood , And held communion with me . In mine ear Her voice's sweet notes breathed not of the earth , Her beauty seemed not of a mortal birth ; And in my heart there was an awful fear , A thrill , like some deep warning from above , That ...
... stood , And held communion with me . In mine ear Her voice's sweet notes breathed not of the earth , Her beauty seemed not of a mortal birth ; And in my heart there was an awful fear , A thrill , like some deep warning from above , That ...
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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
beam beauty behold beneath birds blessed bloom bosom boughs bower breathe bride bright BROTHERS calm Canst thou forget cliffs clouds Cold fear Coloured cottage Cushlo-mo-chree DALZIEL BROTHERS dark dear deep delight doth dream earth EDMUND EVANS ELIZA COOK fair fear flowers gentle gleam glide Grasmere grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy hath heard heart heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour JOHN FRANCIS WALLER lassie leaf light live lonely look luve Maire bhan Astor merry morning mossy MOTHERWELL mountain murmur night o'er pleasure rills rocks round rove scene shade shepherd shines shore side sight silence sing sleep smile snow soft solitude song sorrow soul spread Spring stood stream summer tears thee 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...