The Princess, Maud, Locksley Hall, and The Talking OakHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1882 - 339 pages |
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Page 20
... mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the ... mother pitying made a thousand prayers ; My mother was as mild as any saint , Half - canonized by all that look'd on ...
... mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the ... mother pitying made a thousand prayers ; My mother was as mild as any saint , Half - canonized by all that look'd on ...
Page 24
... mother - city thick with towers , And in the imperial palace found the king . His name was Gama ; crack'd and small his voice , But bland the smile that like a wrinkling wind On glassy water drove his cheek in lines ; A little dry old ...
... mother - city thick with towers , And in the imperial palace found the king . His name was Gama ; crack'd and small his voice , But bland the smile that like a wrinkling wind On glassy water drove his cheek in lines ; A little dry old ...
Page 43
... mother of the sweetest little maid , That ever crow'd for kisses . " " Out upon it ! " She answer'd , " peace ! and why should I not play The Spartan Mother with emotion , be The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind ! Him you call great : he ...
... mother of the sweetest little maid , That ever crow'd for kisses . " " Out upon it ! " She answer'd , " peace ! and why should I not play The Spartan Mother with emotion , be The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind ! Him you call great : he ...
Page 44
... mother , is she well ? " With that she kiss'd His forehead , then , a moment after , clung About him , and betwixt them blossom'd up From out a common vein of memory Sweet household talk , and phrases of the hearth , And far allusion ...
... mother , is she well ? " With that she kiss'd His forehead , then , a moment after , clung About him , and betwixt them blossom'd up From out a common vein of memory Sweet household talk , and phrases of the hearth , And far allusion ...
Page 45
... mother's color ) with her lips apart , And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes , As bottom agates seen to wave and float In crystal currents of clear morning seas . So stood that same fair creature at the door . Then Lady Psyche ...
... mother's color ) with her lips apart , And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes , As bottom agates seen to wave and float In crystal currents of clear morning seas . So stood that same fair creature at the door . Then Lady Psyche ...
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.