The Library of Poetry and Song, 1±ÇWilliam Cullen Bryant Doubleday, Page, 1925 - 1100ÆäÀÌÁö "A comprehensive exhibit of poetic literature" -- Preface. A collection of English and American poetry on topics such as nature and childhood. |
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... ( Paradise Lost ) 711 Adam describi g Eve ( Paradise Lost ) Adam's Morning Hymn in Paradise 200 363 Adam to Eve 216 Battle of the Angels ( Paradise Los :) 5090 England 1564 - 1593 . Blindness , On his 366 The Passionate Shepherd to his ...
... ( Paradise Lost ) 711 Adam describi g Eve ( Paradise Lost ) Adam's Morning Hymn in Paradise 200 363 Adam to Eve 216 Battle of the Angels ( Paradise Los :) 5090 England 1564 - 1593 . Blindness , On his 366 The Passionate Shepherd to his ...
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... Paradise ) 165 114 Pelican , The ( Pelican İsland ) . 480 Atalanta ... Paradise and the Peri ) " The harp that once through Tara's halls " Val of Cashmere ... lost , 203 , 204 : ¥Ó¥ï 204. " While gazing on the Moon's Light , " 491 ...
... Paradise ) 165 114 Pelican , The ( Pelican İsland ) . 480 Atalanta ... Paradise and the Peri ) " The harp that once through Tara's halls " Val of Cashmere ... lost , 203 , 204 : ¥Ó¥ï 204. " While gazing on the Moon's Light , " 491 ...
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... Paradise our store . Friends out of sight , in faith to muse Burial of the Dead . YOUNG . KEBLE . I praise the ... lost no friend . Epistle to Mr. Addison . She joyfully flew to her home in the grove . 66 Farewell , " said the ...
... Paradise our store . Friends out of sight , in faith to muse Burial of the Dead . YOUNG . KEBLE . I praise the ... lost no friend . Epistle to Mr. Addison . She joyfully flew to her home in the grove . 66 Farewell , " said the ...
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... paradise , and so entranced , Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress , And listened to her breathing , if it chanced To ... lost in thine , Though thou forsakest a deceived thing ; A dove forlorn and lost , with sick , unpruned wing ...
... paradise , and so entranced , Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress , And listened to her breathing , if it chanced To ... lost in thine , Though thou forsakest a deceived thing ; A dove forlorn and lost , with sick , unpruned wing ...
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... Paradise Lost , Book viii . Hung over her enamored , and beheld Beauty , which , whether waking or asleep , Shot forth peculiar graces . Paradise Lost , Book v . MILTON , MILTON . Than strength of nerve or sinew , or the sway Of magic ...
... Paradise Lost , Book viii . Hung over her enamored , and beheld Beauty , which , whether waking or asleep , Shot forth peculiar graces . Paradise Lost , Book v . MILTON , MILTON . Than strength of nerve or sinew , or the sway Of magic ...
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ALFRED TENNYSON angels baby Baby Bell beauty birds blessed bliss bonny bosom breast breath bright brow charm cheek child cold dark dead dear death doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes face fair farewell fear feet flowers gentle grave green grief hair hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hour JEAN INGELOW JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER kiss lady light lips live look love thee love's lover maid maiden morning mother ne'er never nevermore night o'er pain Paradise Lost ROBERT BURNS Robin Adair rose round SAMUEL LOVER SHAKESPEARE shine sigh silent sing sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul stars summer sweet tears tell There's thine things THOMAS HOOD THOMAS MOORE thou art thought voice weary weep whisper wind words young youth
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317 ÆäÀÌÁö - Darkling I listen ; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
130 ÆäÀÌÁö - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
297 ÆäÀÌÁö - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes. When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
306 ÆäÀÌÁö - Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered 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?
286 ÆäÀÌÁö - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
145 ÆäÀÌÁö - Of hair-breadth scapes i" the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence, And portance in my travel's history; Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, — such was the process: And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.
317 ÆäÀÌÁö - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards. Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays ; But here there is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
234 ÆäÀÌÁö - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
311 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
115 ÆäÀÌÁö - And moan the expense of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.