Beauties of English LandscapeGeorge Routledge and Sons, 1874 - 301 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 15
Página x
... tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale , Joined in one solemn and capacious grove His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes , Through crags and forest glooms and ...
... tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale , Joined in one solemn and capacious grove His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes , Through crags and forest glooms and ...
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... was in years , And life's dark and stormy weather Seemed like April's smiles and tears . REBECCA S. NICHOLS . 2 THEN , as I wandered where the huddling rill 8 When the harvest moon was beaming Softly through the dewy leaves.
... was in years , And life's dark and stormy weather Seemed like April's smiles and tears . REBECCA S. NICHOLS . 2 THEN , as I wandered where the huddling rill 8 When the harvest moon was beaming Softly through the dewy leaves.
Página 23
... tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know that pride , Howe'er disguised in his own ...
... tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know that pride , Howe'er disguised in his own ...
Página 38
... , Sorrow smiling through her tears , And , conscious of the past employ , Memory , bosom spring of joy . COLERIDGE . HUNG o'er a cloud above the steep that rears , 38 In a cottaged vale she dwells, Listening to the Sabbath bells!
... , Sorrow smiling through her tears , And , conscious of the past employ , Memory , bosom spring of joy . COLERIDGE . HUNG o'er a cloud above the steep that rears , 38 In a cottaged vale she dwells, Listening to the Sabbath bells!
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... tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours . WORDSWORTH . YEW - TREES . THERE is a Yew - tree 46 could not pray :-through tears that fell in showers saw my own dear home, that was no longer ours.
... tears that fell in showers I saw my own dear home , that was no longer ours . WORDSWORTH . YEW - TREES . THERE is a Yew - tree 46 could not pray :-through tears that fell in showers saw my own dear home, that was no longer ours.
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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...