The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageSever and Francis, 1869 - 405 pages |
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Results 1-5 of 44
Page 13
... , with ruby red , With marble white , with sapphire blue Her body every way is fed , Yet soft in touch and sweet in view : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Nature herself her shape admires The Gods are wounded in Book First 43.
... , with ruby red , With marble white , with sapphire blue Her body every way is fed , Yet soft in touch and sweet in view : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Nature herself her shape admires The Gods are wounded in Book First 43.
Page 37
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I ' ll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give Book First 37.
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I ' ll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give Book First 37.
Page 59
... soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers , Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute . Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation , Fury , frantic indignation , Depth of pains , and ...
... soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers , Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute . Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation , Fury , frantic indignation , Depth of pains , and ...
Page 67
... soft lays : - As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze , Or frost to flowers , that their gay wardrobe wear When first the white - thorn blows ; Such , Lycidas , thy loss to shepherds ' ear ...
... soft lays : - As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze , Or frost to flowers , that their gay wardrobe wear When first the white - thorn blows ; Such , Lycidas , thy loss to shepherds ' ear ...
Page 81
... Soft silken hours , Open suns , shady bowers ; ' Bove all , nothing within that lowers . Days , that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore - spent night of sorrow : Days , that in spite Of darkness , by the light Of a ...
... Soft silken hours , Open suns , shady bowers ; ' Bove all , nothing within that lowers . Days , that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore - spent night of sorrow : Days , that in spite Of darkness , by the light Of a ...
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Common terms and phrases
Arethuse beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE gentle glory golden green happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Heigh hills kiss lady leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre MARK LEMON mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree Vellum voice waly waly waves weep whilst wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 15 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Page 76 - 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.
Page 22 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang. In me. thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west ; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that...
Page 373 - Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 258 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 172 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Page 141 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Page 299 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. // Near them, on the sand, / Half sunk, / a shattered visage lies, / whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, / Tell that its sculptor / well those passions read / Which yet survive, / stamped on these lifeless things, / The hand that mocked them, / and the heart that fed: // And on the pedestal / these words appear: // "My...
Page 174 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Page 10 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...