A New Library of Poetry and Song, Band 2William Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 Seiten |
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Seite 473
... Poor , reckless , rude , low - born , untaught , Bewildered , and alone , A heart , with English instinct fraught , He yet can call his own . Ay , tear his body limb from limb , Bring cord or ax or flame , He only knows that not through ...
... Poor , reckless , rude , low - born , untaught , Bewildered , and alone , A heart , with English instinct fraught , He yet can call his own . Ay , tear his body limb from limb , Bring cord or ax or flame , He only knows that not through ...
Seite 476
... poor churl , as you may say , sir ; My pension's all I'm worth : Yet I'd not give that bowl away , sir , For all the gold on earth . " Just hear now ! Once , as we hussars , all merry , Hard on the foe's rear pressed , A blundering ...
... poor churl , as you may say , sir ; My pension's all I'm worth : Yet I'd not give that bowl away , sir , For all the gold on earth . " Just hear now ! Once , as we hussars , all merry , Hard on the foe's rear pressed , A blundering ...
Seite 478
... poor sparrow fall Unheeded by thy gracious eye . " Throw wide thy gates to let him in , And take him , pleading , to thine arms ; Forgive , O Lord ! his life - long sin , And quiet all his fierce alarms . " God bless you , my comrade ...
... poor sparrow fall Unheeded by thy gracious eye . " Throw wide thy gates to let him in , And take him , pleading , to thine arms ; Forgive , O Lord ! his life - long sin , And quiet all his fierce alarms . " God bless you , my comrade ...
Seite 479
... poor cold face to mine . The blood flowed fast from my wounded side , And then for a while I forgot my pain , And over the lakelet we seemed to glide In our little boat , two boys again . And then , in my dream , we stood alone On a ...
... poor cold face to mine . The blood flowed fast from my wounded side , And then for a while I forgot my pain , And over the lakelet we seemed to glide In our little boat , two boys again . And then , in my dream , we stood alone On a ...
Seite 488
... Poor disciples of the Word Preach of Christ arisen ! Not in vain , confessor old , Unto us the tale is told Of thy day of trial ! Every age on him who strays From its broad and beaten ways Pours its seven - fold vial . Happy he whose ...
... Poor disciples of the Word Preach of Christ arisen ! Not in vain , confessor old , Unto us the tale is told Of thy day of trial ! Every age on him who strays From its broad and beaten ways Pours its seven - fold vial . Happy he whose ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell field fire flowers give gold grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour Italy JOHN king land leaves light live look Lord mind morning never night o'er once pass peace poor rest rise rock rolled rose round seemed seen shore side sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned voice wave wild wind wings wonder young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 626 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Seite 815 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Seite 556 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Seite 783 - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
Seite 709 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Seite 461 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark!
Seite 818 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Seite 723 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Seite 709 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Seite 657 - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...