The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies: Hero and Leander, Lycus the Centaur, and Other PoemsLongman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, 1827 - 222 Seiten |
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Seite 19
... turn'd fragrance in his breath , Kiss'd by sad Zephyr , guilty of his death . XXXVII . " The widow'd primrose weeping to the moon , And saffron crocus in whose chalice bright A cool libation hoarded for the noon Is kept and she that ...
... turn'd fragrance in his breath , Kiss'd by sad Zephyr , guilty of his death . XXXVII . " The widow'd primrose weeping to the moon , And saffron crocus in whose chalice bright A cool libation hoarded for the noon Is kept and she that ...
Seite 28
... Turning their solemn looks to half a smile Like a straight stick shown crooked in the tide ; - But soon a novel advocate I spied . LV . Quoth he❝ We teach all natures to fulfil Their fore - appointed crafts , and instincts meet , - The ...
... Turning their solemn looks to half a smile Like a straight stick shown crooked in the tide ; - But soon a novel advocate I spied . LV . Quoth he❝ We teach all natures to fulfil Their fore - appointed crafts , and instincts meet , - The ...
Seite 31
... scoop we hollows in some sandy nook , And little channels dig , wherein we turn The thread - worn rivulet , that all forsook The Naiad - lily , pining for her brook . LXII . " Wherefore , by thy delight in cool MIDSUMMER FAIRIES . 31.
... scoop we hollows in some sandy nook , And little channels dig , wherein we turn The thread - worn rivulet , that all forsook The Naiad - lily , pining for her brook . LXII . " Wherefore , by thy delight in cool MIDSUMMER FAIRIES . 31.
Seite 46
... must : We ruminate no sage's solemn cud , But own ourselves a pinch of lively dust To frisk upon a wind , whereas the flood - Of tears would turn us into heavy mud . XCII . " Beshrew those sad interpreters of nature , 46 THE PLEA OF THE.
... must : We ruminate no sage's solemn cud , But own ourselves a pinch of lively dust To frisk upon a wind , whereas the flood - Of tears would turn us into heavy mud . XCII . " Beshrew those sad interpreters of nature , 46 THE PLEA OF THE.
Seite 48
... Turning her buds to rosemary and rue ; And all their merry minstrelsy did drown , And laid each lusty leaper in the dew ; So thou shalt fare and every jovial crew ! " XCVI . Here he lets go the struggling imp , 48 THE PLEA OF THE.
... Turning her buds to rosemary and rue ; And all their merry minstrelsy did drown , And laid each lusty leaper in the dew ; So thou shalt fare and every jovial crew ! " XCVI . Here he lets go the struggling imp , 48 THE PLEA OF THE.
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
arms art thou beauty BEDFONT billows birds bloom blossoms blue breast breath bright brine Brooklets brow buds CENTAUR cheeks churl Circe clouds cold cowslips dark dead dear death deep delight dewy dost dream elfin elves Ev'n eyes face faint fair fairy fancy farewell fear fled flow'rs gaze gentle gloom golden gone grass green grief hair hand HARVARD COLLEGE hast hath heart heav'n HERO AND LEANDER hollow kiss Leander leaves light lily lips live locks look'd looks Love's LYCUS magic Meanwhile melancholy mirth moon morn mortal Naiad night o'er pale pearls pity pluck'd poison'd Puck quoth Robin Goodfellow rose round Sappho Saturn scythe shade shadows shine sighs sing skies sleep smiles SONNET sorrow soul stamp'd Stept stream summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree turn'd warm wave weep wept Wherefore Whilst wild wind wings
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 188 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Seite 186 - Tis nothing but the heron's cry, And plover's answer shrill ; My child is flown on wilder wings, Than they have ever spread, And I may even walk a waste That widened when she fled.
Seite 158 - Fair Ines had always, for me, an inexpressible charm : O saw ye not fair Ines ? She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down. And rob the world of rest : She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.
Seite 187 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Seite 171 - Where are the songs of Summer ? — With the sun, Oping the dusky eyelids of the South, Till shade and silence waken up as one, And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth. Where are the merry birds ? — Away, away, On panting wings through the inclement skies, Lest owls should prey Undazzled at noon-day, And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.
Seite 159 - Alas, alas, fair Ines, She went away with song, With music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng; But some were sad, and felt no mirth, But only music's wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've loved so long.
Seite 206 - s in the wane, There is nothing adorning, The night has no eve, And the day has no morning ;Cold winter gives warning. The rivers run chill, The red sun is sinking, And I am grown old, And life is fast shrinking ;— Here's enow for sad thinking ! ODE TO MELANCHOLY.
Seite 173 - There is enough of wither'd everywhere To make her bower,— and enough of gloom ; There is enough of sadness to invite, If only for the rose that died, whose doom Is Beauty's,— she that with the living bloom Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light ; There is enough of sorrowing, and quite Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear, — Enough of chilly droppings from her bowl ; Enough of fear and shadowy despair, To frame her cloudy prison for the soul 1 SONNET. IT is not death...
Seite 182 - Deeply ripened ;— such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light, That had else been all too bright.
Seite 153 - The meeting sweet that made me thrill, The sweetmeats almost sweeter still, No ' satis ' to the ' jams ! '— When that I was a tiny boy My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind ! No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the tear-drop from my eye, To cast a look behind ! FAIR IXE3.