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already answer appearance arms asked beauty body bright cause character conversation course dark devoted door dream drop Earth elements entered fall fear feelings felt fire forms friends give gone grave hand head hear heard heart holy honor hope human influence interest Italian Italy knew Lampognano Lawyer learning leave letters liberty light literature live look Milan mind morning nature never night noble o'er Olgiato once palace passed past perfect person poor present profession rank ready received remain rise roll round scene seat seemed side silence soon soul sound spirit standing streets student suddenly sure temple thing thought tion tone true turn Twitter usual voice walls whole young
Seite 46 - Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, * Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.
Seite 47 - For thee I grew A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages. For thee I sought to borrow from each grace, And every muse, such attributes as lend Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, And passion taught me poesy — of thee, And on the painter's canvas grew the life Of beauty!
Seite 41 - To hear the lark begin his flight And singing startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Seite 41 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Seite 41 - Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before...
Seite 47 - Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give Thy voice of thunder, power to speak of him Eternally — bidding the lip of man Keep silence — and upon thy rocky altar pour Incense of awe-struck praise.
Seite 24 - She is not rosy-finger'd, but swoln black. Her face is like a water turn'd to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds, As if she threaten'd night ere noon of day. It does not look as it would have a hail Or health wish'd in it, as on other morns.
Seite 40 - Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter ; 20 The mystery of the seven stars which thou sawest in my right hand, and the seven golden candlesticks.
Seite 24 - It is methinks a morning full of fate, It riseth slowly, as her sullen car Had all the weights of sleep and death hung at it. She is not rosy-finger'd, but swoln black.