Rymes and RoundelayesSmith, 1841 - 216 strani |
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Aconite art thou bark beauty behold beneath billows bird bless blue bosom breast breath bright brow CADER IDRIS calm charm cling clouds cold Crocus crystal dark dead dear death deep delight dirge dost doth drear e'en earth evermore face fair farewell FIENDS flowers frown gaze gleam glide gloom golden grave green hath hear heart heaven hour land lichens light lone look look'd MAIDENHEAD MARIE ANTOINETTE midst MONT BLANC morn murmurs ne'er never Never lovelier night nought o'er ocean pale poor rill rocks round sails seem'd sere serene shadows shore sigh sight silent silvery sing skies smile soft song sorrow soul spirit Spring stones storm STORM-FIEND stream sunny sunny banks sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tree vale voice waters wavelets waves ween wend wild winds wings
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 201 - He's taking a drive in his carriage at last, But it will not be long, if he goes on so fast. Rattle his bones over the stones! He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns.
Stran 107 - My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Stran 200 - PAUPER'S DRIVE THERE'S a grim one-horse hearse in a jolly round trot; To the churchyard a pauper is going, I wot; The road it is rough, and the hearse has no springs; And hark to the dirge which the sad driver sings: Rattle his bones over the stones! He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns.
Stran 201 - How the dirt, right and left, o'er the hedges is hurled! The pauper at length makes a noise in the world! " Rattle his bones over the stones! He's only a pauper whom nobody owns !
Stran 202 - OLD WINTER OLD Winter sad, in snow yclad. Is making a doleful din; But let him howl till he crack his jowl, We will not let him in. Ay, let him lift from the billowy drift His hoary, haggard form, And scowling stand, with his wrinkled hand Outstretching to the storm. And let his weird and sleety beard Stream loose upon the blast, And, rustling, chime to the tinkling rime From his bald head falling fast. Let his baleful breath shed blight and death On herb and flower and tree; And brooks and ponds...
Stran 200 - Rattle his bones over the stones, He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns ! " What a jolting, and creaking, and splashing, and din; The whip how it cracks, and the wheels how they spin ! How the dirt right and left o'er the hedges is hurled ! The pauper at length makes a noise in the world. " Rattle his bones over the stones, He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns...
Stran 76 - O'er the waters glance and glow. There are spots where nestle wild flowers small With many a mingling gleam ; Where the broad flag waves, and the bulrush tall Nods still to the thrusting stream. The Forget-me-not on the water's edge Reveals her lovely hue, Where the broken bank, between the sedge, Is embroidered with her blue. And in bays where matted foliage weaves A shadowy arch on high, Serene on broad and bronze-like leaves, The virgin lilies lie. Fair fall those bonny...
Stran 46 - With pendent train and rushing wings, Aloft the gorgeous peacock springs ; And he, the bird of hundred dyes, Whose plumes the dames of Ava prize, So rich a shade, so green a sod, Our English fairies never trod ; Yet who in Indian bower has stood, But thought on England's good green-wood...
Stran 203 - Let him in at us spy with his icicle eye, But he shall not entrance gain. Let him gnaw, forsooth, with his freezing tooth, On our roof-tiles, till he tire; But we care not a whit, as we jovial sit Before our blazing fire. Come, lads, let's sing, till the rafters ring; Come, push the can about; — From our snug fire-side this Christmas-tide We'll keep old Winter out. Thomas Noel...
Stran 77 - ... the sedge, Is embroidered with her blue. And in bays where matted foliage weaves A shadowy arch on high, Serene on broad and bronze-like leaves, The virgin lilies lie. Fair fall those bonny flowers! 0 how I love their petals bright! Smoother than Ariel's moonlit brow! The Water-Nymph's delight! Those milk-white cups with a golden core, Like marble lamps, that throw So soft a light on the bordering shore, And the waves that round them flow!