Sabrinae corolla in hortulis regiae scholae Salopiensis contextuerunt tres viri floribus legendis ... |
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56 ÆäÀÌÁö
That flower, that fairest flower that grew, Aye cherished by the evening dew, And
cheered by opening day ; That flower, which I had spared to cull, Because it was
so beautiful, And shone so fresh and gay ; Had all unseen a deathly shoot, The ...
That flower, that fairest flower that grew, Aye cherished by the evening dew, And
cheered by opening day ; That flower, which I had spared to cull, Because it was
so beautiful, And shone so fresh and gay ; Had all unseen a deathly shoot, The ...
144 ÆäÀÌÁö
On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in
flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling through the cloven
ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up ...
On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in
flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling through the cloven
ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up ...
166 ÆäÀÌÁö
The Daisy. There is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That
welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties
of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield,
...
The Daisy. There is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That
welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties
of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield,
...
182 ÆäÀÌÁö
Ask me why this flower doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask me why
the stalk is weak, And bending, yet it doth ... the lark at heaven's gate sings, And
Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that
...
Ask me why this flower doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask me why
the stalk is weak, And bending, yet it doth ... the lark at heaven's gate sings, And
Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that
...
196 ÆäÀÌÁö
... on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew: fragrant the fertile earth After
soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird ; and this fair moom, And these the gems of heaven, ...
... on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew: fragrant the fertile earth After
soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird ; and this fair moom, And these the gems of heaven, ...
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adhuc amor aqvas auras bright BYRON caeli caelum caput Coll cura dear death decus face fair fall flowers gaudia Gulielmus Haec hand hath heart heaven Hinc honor hope hour illa inter Ioann ipse laeta Land leaves light live luce Magd mihi mile Milton modo Mors neqve never night nobis nunc o'er omnes omnia patriae procul qvae qvam qvid qvidqvid Qvod qvom rest rosa rose Schol semper Shakspeare sine sole solis Song soul Spiritus sunt sweet tamen tellus terra thee thine things thou tibi Trin umbra unda vale vita wave wind xaì yàp ¥óὸ
Àαâ Àο뱸
34 ÆäÀÌÁö - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
196 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
252 ÆäÀÌÁö - Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? " " Not there, not there, my child...
156 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry. Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
24 ÆäÀÌÁö - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
114 ÆäÀÌÁö - Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion ; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, Obedience : for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
238 ÆäÀÌÁö - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
136 ÆäÀÌÁö - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows...
238 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
268 ÆäÀÌÁö - Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise...