Poems, Band 2Edward Moxon & Company, Dover Street, 1868 - 879 Seiten |
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Seite 5
... dead selves to higher things . But who shall so forecast the years , And find in loss a gain to match ? Or reach a hand thro ' time to catch The far - off interest of tears ? Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd , Let darkness keep ...
... dead selves to higher things . But who shall so forecast the years , And find in loss a gain to match ? Or reach a hand thro ' time to catch The far - off interest of tears ? Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd , Let darkness keep ...
Seite 6
... dead , Thy fibres net the dreamless head , Thy roots are wrapt about the bones . The seasons bring the flower again , And bring the firstling to the flock ; And in the dusk of thee , the clock Beats out the little lives of men . O not ...
... dead , Thy fibres net the dreamless head , Thy roots are wrapt about the bones . The seasons bring the flower again , And bring the firstling to the flock ; And in the dusk of thee , the clock Beats out the little lives of men . O not ...
Seite 7
... dead , Thy fibres net the dreamless head , Thy roots are wrapt about the bones . The seasons bring the flower again , And bring the firstling to the flock ; And in the dusk of thee , the clock Beats out the little lives of men . O not ...
... dead , Thy fibres net the dreamless head , Thy roots are wrapt about the bones . The seasons bring the flower again , And bring the firstling to the flock ; And in the dusk of thee , the clock Beats out the little lives of men . O not ...
Seite 14
... dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep . XII . Lo , as a dove when up she springs To bear thro ' Heaven a tale of woe , Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings ; Like her I go ; I ...
... dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep . XII . Lo , as a dove when up she springs To bear thro ' Heaven a tale of woe , Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings ; Like her I go ; I ...
Seite 17
... dead lake That holds the shadow of a lark Hung in the shadow of a heaven ? Or has the shock , so harshly given , Confused me like the unhappy bark VOL . II . B That strikes by night a craggy shelf , And staggers IN MEMORIAM . 17.
... dead lake That holds the shadow of a lark Hung in the shadow of a heaven ? Or has the shock , so harshly given , Confused me like the unhappy bark VOL . II . B That strikes by night a craggy shelf , And staggers IN MEMORIAM . 17.
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Astolat Aylmer beat blood break breath Caerleon call'd Camelot chidden child dark dark moor dead dear death diamond dream Dubric earth Enid ev'n evermore eyes face fair Fair lord fame fancy father fear feet flower follow'd Gawain Geraint glory golden gone grief Guinevere half hall hand happy head hear heard heart heaven horse hour jousts Katie King kiss'd knew land Lavaine light Limours little birdie live look'd lord maid maiden martial music Maud Merlin morn moved never night noble o'er once passion peace poison'd Prince Queen Ring Ringlet rode rose seem'd shadow shame silent Sir Lancelot sleep smile song sorrow soul spake sparrow-hawk speak star stood sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro tower true turn'd vext Vivien voice weep wild wrought
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 73 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Seite 5 - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Seite 181 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Seite 43 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Seite 3 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Seite 182 - Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro...
Seite 160 - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers ; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows ; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses ; I linger by my shingly bars ; I loiter round my cresses ; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Seite 141 - She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, " She is late ; " The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers,
Seite 180 - O WELL for him whose will is strong ! He suffers, but he will not suffer long ; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong : For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. II. But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro...
Seite 140 - And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clash'd in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all ; From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That, whenever a March-wind sighs, He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet And the valleys of Paradise.