Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica
Não foram encontradas quaisquer críticas nos locais habituais.
Outras edições - Ver tudo
advance animals annelids aoul appeared army Balaklava banks battle beautiful become birds body British called cavalry centre character clouds coast Cordilleras course cultivation distance Duke of York Dupleix earth elephants enemy England English Europe European eyes feel feet feudal fief fire Flustra force forest France French gharry ground Gulf Stream hand head heart hills Hindoo horses hour house of Bourbon human hundred India inhabitants jungul king labor land light living look Lord Lord Lucan Marlborough ment miles mind molluscs Mongol mountains Nabob nations native nature never night noble observed ocean ovipositor passed plain poles present ravine regions rich rising river rocks scarcely scene seemed seen ships side soon spirit steppes stream thing thought thousand tion traveller trees troops valley village whole wild wind Yorkists Zoophytes
Página 289 - Will I upon thy party wear this rose: And here I prophesy, — This brawl to-day, Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Página 30 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Página 30 - Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind...
Página 22 - If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know, that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy.
Página 14 - In me. thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west ; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
Página 61 - The latest Gospel in this world is, Know thy work and do it. ' Know thyself:' long enough has that poor ' self of thine tormented thee ; thou wilt never get to ' know' it, I believe ! Think it not thy business, this of knowing thyself; thou art an unknowable individual : know what thou canst work at; and work at it, like a Hercules!
Página 30 - To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 4 - Leave to enjoy myself. That place, that does Contain my books, the best companions, is To me a glorious court, where hourly I Converse with the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes for variety I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account ; and in my fancy, Deface their ill-placed statues.
Página 5 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old : My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe ; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Página 14 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.