A Household Book of English Poetry, 160È£Macmillan, 1870 - 438ÆäÀÌÁö |
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11 ÆäÀÌÁö
... clear . The shadow of the earth anon Removes and drawes by , ¥É¥Ï While in the east , when it is gone , Appears a clearer sky . Which soon perceive the little larks , The lapwing and the snipe , And tune their songs , like Nature's clerks ...
... clear . The shadow of the earth anon Removes and drawes by , ¥É¥Ï While in the east , when it is gone , Appears a clearer sky . Which soon perceive the little larks , The lapwing and the snipe , And tune their songs , like Nature's clerks ...
12 ÆäÀÌÁö
... clearly seen , Which seemèd dim before : Except the glistering astres bright , Which all the night were clear , Offuskèd with a greater light No longer do appear . The golden globe incontinent Sets up his shining head , 20 25 . And o'er ...
... clearly seen , Which seemèd dim before : Except the glistering astres bright , Which all the night were clear , Offuskèd with a greater light No longer do appear . The golden globe incontinent Sets up his shining head , 20 25 . And o'er ...
15 ÆäÀÌÁö
... clear , The perfect form of every tree Within the deep appear . Oh then it were a seemly thing , While all is still and calm , The praise of God to play and sing With cornet and with shalm ! All labourers draw home at even , And can to ...
... clear , The perfect form of every tree Within the deep appear . Oh then it were a seemly thing , While all is still and calm , The praise of God to play and sing With cornet and with shalm ! All labourers draw home at even , And can to ...
26 ÆäÀÌÁö
... clear springs renewed by flowing , Ever perfect , ever in them- Selves eternal . 10 5 10 15 Thomas Campion . XXIV TRIUMPH OF CHARIS . See the chariot at hand here of Love , Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove ...
... clear springs renewed by flowing , Ever perfect , ever in them- Selves eternal . 10 5 10 15 Thomas Campion . XXIV TRIUMPH OF CHARIS . See the chariot at hand here of Love , Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove ...
46 ÆäÀÌÁö
... I praise a mean estate— Neither too lofty nor too low : This , this is all my choice , my cheer- A mind content , a conscience clear . Joshua Sylvester . 5 ¥É¥Ï 15 20 XLIX SONNET . Poor Soul , the centre of my 46 A Household Book.
... I praise a mean estate— Neither too lofty nor too low : This , this is all my choice , my cheer- A mind content , a conscience clear . Joshua Sylvester . 5 ¥É¥Ï 15 20 XLIX SONNET . Poor Soul , the centre of my 46 A Household Book.
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appear bear beauty beneath bird breath bright clear clouds crown dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth English eyes face fair fall fear flow flowers give glory golden gone grace grave green grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hope hour John King land leaves less light lines live look Lord mind morn mother nature never night o'er once pain pass peace pleasure poem poet praise rest rise rose round seemed seen shine sight sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring stand stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn voice walks weep wind woods youth ¥É¥Ï
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248 ÆäÀÌÁö - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
282 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
85 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
257 ÆäÀÌÁö - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
285 ÆäÀÌÁö - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
215 ÆäÀÌÁö - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
339 ÆäÀÌÁö - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
26 ÆäÀÌÁö - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
51 ÆäÀÌÁö - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
293 ÆäÀÌÁö - O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed ; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shall remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, ! " Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.