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Afrasiab arms art thou Atalanta Baltic Sea beauty bells beneath blood blow Bouillabaisse boys breast breath bright Bright Eyes Brittany brow Calydon castellan Cepheus cheek cold dark dead dear death deep dream drum earth eyes face fair fair lord fear feet fight flowers gazed gold golden grave gray green grew hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Iseult King kiss Lamech laughed light lips look Lord MELEAGER merry moan moon mother Mysie never night o'er Oxus pain pale Pallas Athene Persian pray queen rain rose round Rustum sand Seistan shadow shine sing sleep smile snow Sohrab song sorrow soul stars stood sweet Tartar tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought Tristram Twas voice waves weary weeping wild Willie wind young
Seite 167 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!
Seite 58 - Call once yet. In a voice that she will know: "Margaret ! Margaret!" Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear; Children's voices, wild with pain. Surely she will come again. Call her once, and come away; This way, this way ! "Mother dear, we cannot stay. The wild white horses foam and fret.
Seite 513 - WHEN the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus, For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain.
Seite 514 - And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins. The full streams feed on flower of rushes, Ripe grasses trammel a travelling foot, The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes From leaf to flower and flower to fruit; And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, And the oat is heard above the lyre, And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root.
Seite 58 - The far-off sound of a silver bell? Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep ; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Where the salt weed sways in the stream, Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, Dry their mail and bask in the brine; Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye?
Seite 297 - Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning. Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands For those who will never come home to the town; For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep; And good-by to the bar and its moaning.
Seite 61 - Lights shine in the town. She will start from her slumber When gusts shake the door; She will hear the winds howling, Will hear the waves roar.
Seite 318 - Bouillabaisse. Ah me ! how quick the days are flitting ! I mind me of a time that's gone, When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place — but not alone. A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me — There's no one now to share my cup. I drink it as the Fates ordain it. Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes : Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it In memory of dear old times.
Seite 514 - Time, with a gift of tears; Grief, with a glass that ran ; Pleasure, with pain for leaven ; Summer, with flowers that fell ; Remembrance fallen from heaven, And madness risen from hell...