A Book of Remembrance, Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the YearMethuen & Company, 1908 - 415 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 19
Página 17
... eternal rest He who bends to himself a joy He who for love has undergone Holly stand in the hall How beautiful is the rain ! · How fresh , O Lord , how sweet and clean How long , O Lord , shall I forgotten be ? How many a time have I ...
... eternal rest He who bends to himself a joy He who for love has undergone Holly stand in the hall How beautiful is the rain ! · How fresh , O Lord , how sweet and clean How long , O Lord , shall I forgotten be ? How many a time have I ...
Página 54
... eternal peace , Whose odours haunt my dreams . The clouds are broken in the sky , And thro ' the mountain walls A rolling organ harmony Swells up , and shakes , and falls . Then move the trees , the copses nod , Wings flutter , voices ...
... eternal peace , Whose odours haunt my dreams . The clouds are broken in the sky , And thro ' the mountain walls A rolling organ harmony Swells up , and shakes , and falls . Then move the trees , the copses nod , Wings flutter , voices ...
Página 59
... eternal moon , what time she fills Her orb with argent , treading a soft measure , With queenly motions of a bridal mood , Through the white spaces of infinitude . DAVID GRAY THE HE world is too much with us ; late 59 FEBRUARY 23.
... eternal moon , what time she fills Her orb with argent , treading a soft measure , With queenly motions of a bridal mood , Through the white spaces of infinitude . DAVID GRAY THE HE world is too much with us ; late 59 FEBRUARY 23.
Página 64
... eternal Light . For oft I sin , And never seem to win , But lose at each attack ; Then turning downcast back , Repent me of each fresh accursed fall . But though defeat be still my only lot , And still my soul I blot With sores that ...
... eternal Light . For oft I sin , And never seem to win , But lose at each attack ; Then turning downcast back , Repent me of each fresh accursed fall . But though defeat be still my only lot , And still my soul I blot With sores that ...
Página 65
... brave , The wise expect , the sorrowful invite , And all the good embrace , who know the grave A short dark passage to eternal light . SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT 5 Toss MARCH I EARLIEST SPRING OSSING his mane of snows 65 FEBRUARY 29.
... brave , The wise expect , the sorrowful invite , And all the good embrace , who know the grave A short dark passage to eternal light . SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT 5 Toss MARCH I EARLIEST SPRING OSSING his mane of snows 65 FEBRUARY 29.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
A Book of Remembrance: Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the Year ... Elizabeth Godfrey Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
A Book of Remembrance: Being Lyrical Selections for Everyday in the Year ... Elizabeth Godfrey Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
A. E. Housman Alfred Tennyson Anon April autumn beauty beneath birds blow breath bright CHRISTINA ROSSETTI clouds cold dark dead dear death delight dost doth dream earth Edward Cracroft Lefroy eternal eyes fair fear feet flowers glory golden green grey happy hast hath hear heart heaven hill John JOHN KEBLE July June Katharine Tynan-Hinkson light live LONGFELLOW look Lord Love's March merry morning never night o'er pain peace Percy Bysshe Shelley Philip Bourke Marston Poems RICHARD Robert Bridges ROBERT HERRICK rose ROSSETTI sail Sept SHAKESPEARE SHELLEY silence sing skies sleep smile snow song sorrow soul SPENSER spirit spring stars sweet tears thee thine things Thomas Lovell Beddoes thought trees unto voice W. B. Yeats walk waves weary wild William William Wordsworth wind wings winter woods WORDSWORTH
Pasajes populares
Página 291 - He that is down needs fear no fall; He that is low, no pride. He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.
Página 98 - THE splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Página 213 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Página 86 - 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 destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Página 15 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above ; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.
Página 374 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Página 121 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Página 316 - O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
Página 9 - 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.
Página 314 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies : How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries?