The Princess, Maud, Locksley Hall, and The Talking OakHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1882 - 339 pages |
From inside the book
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Page 20
... fight with shadows and to fall . For so , my mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the house . Myself too had weird seizures , Heaven knows what : On a sudden in ...
... fight with shadows and to fall . For so , my mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the house . Myself too had weird seizures , Heaven knows what : On a sudden in ...
Page 41
... " The fifth in line from that old Florian , Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall ( The gaunt old Baron with his beetle brow Sun - shaded in the heat of dusty fights ) As he bestrode my Grandsire , when he fell , THE PRINCESS . 41.
... " The fifth in line from that old Florian , Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall ( The gaunt old Baron with his beetle brow Sun - shaded in the heat of dusty fights ) As he bestrode my Grandsire , when he fell , THE PRINCESS . 41.
Page 56
... fighting shadows here ! I forced a way Thro ' solid opposition crabb'd and gnarl'd . Better to clear prime forests , heave and thump A league of street in summer solstice down , Than hammer at this reverend gentlewoman . I knock'd and ...
... fighting shadows here ! I forced a way Thro ' solid opposition crabb'd and gnarl'd . Better to clear prime forests , heave and thump A league of street in summer solstice down , Than hammer at this reverend gentlewoman . I knock'd and ...
Page 70
... fight with iron laws , in the end Found golden let the past be past ; let be Their cancell'd Babels : tho ' the rough kex break The starr'd mosaic , and the beard - blown goat Hang on the shaft , and the wild figtree split Their ...
... fight with iron laws , in the end Found golden let the past be past ; let be Their cancell'd Babels : tho ' the rough kex break The starr'd mosaic , and the beard - blown goat Hang on the shaft , and the wild figtree split Their ...
Page 93
... fight to kill and make an end : And he that next inherited the tale Half turning to the broken statue , said , " Sir Ralph has got your colors : if I prove Your knight , and fight your battle , what for me ? " It chanced , her empty ...
... fight to kill and make an end : And he that next inherited the tale Half turning to the broken statue , said , " Sir Ralph has got your colors : if I prove Your knight , and fight your battle , what for me ? " It chanced , her empty ...
Other editions - View all
The Princess, Maud, Locksley Hall, and the Talking Oak Baron Alfred Tennyson Tennyson No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
answer'd Arac arms babe bassoon beat betwixt Blanche blow bow'd breast breath brother brows cataract cheek child Cyril dark dead dear death dipt dream dropt dying eyes face fair fall'n fancy father Favorite Poems fear feet Florian flying gate gemlike girl golden half hand happy happy day head hear heard heart heart of stone Heaven hollow king kiss Lady Psyche land light Lilia lily lips live Locksley Hall look'd lord maiden maids Maud Melissa moorland morning mother moved night noble o'er ourself passion peace poison'd Prince Princess Princess Ida rode roll'd rose round sang seem'd shadow shame shining smile song soul spake speak splendor spoke stept stood strange sweet talk'd tender thee things thou thought thro touch'd troth trumpet turn'd vext voice wild wind Winter's tale woman women wood yonder
Popular passages
Page 69 - She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Page 67 - 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.
Page 21 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. Thro...
Page 69 - Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others ; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 18 - I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains, Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains! Mated with a squalid savage— what to me were sun or clime? I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time...
Page 13 - They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn : Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a mouldered string ? I am shamed through all my nature to have loved so slight a thing.
Page 69 - And thinking of the days that are no more. " Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. " Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Page 147 - Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang) In height and cold, the splendour of the hills ? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire ; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him...
Page 78 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee: Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us, What and where they be.
Page 22 - Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my fancy yet. Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall! Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall. Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over heath and holt, Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt. Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow; For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.