The Home Book of Verse, American and English, 1580-1918, Volume 1H. Holt, 1918 - 4009 páginas |
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Página xix
... hand seemed milk , in milk it was so white , " to the far more striking " Her hand seemed milk in milk , it was so white . " He has corrected all the typographical errors he had himself.
... hand seemed milk , in milk it was so white , " to the far more striking " Her hand seemed milk in milk , it was so white . " He has corrected all the typographical errors he had himself.
Página 7
... hand at straining ear , I long have stood and sought to hear Borne with the warm midsummer breeze With scent of hay and hum of bees Faintly from far - off Sicily . Ah , well I know that not for us Are Virgil and Theocritus , } And that ...
... hand at straining ear , I long have stood and sought to hear Borne with the warm midsummer breeze With scent of hay and hum of bees Faintly from far - off Sicily . Ah , well I know that not for us Are Virgil and Theocritus , } And that ...
Página 17
... hands . Then , even as warriors grip their brands When battle's bolt is hurled , They close , clenched hard like ... hand , - Two tender feet upon the untried border Of life's mysterious land . Dimpled , and soft , and pink as peach ...
... hands . Then , even as warriors grip their brands When battle's bolt is hurled , They close , clenched hard like ... hand , - Two tender feet upon the untried border Of life's mysterious land . Dimpled , and soft , and pink as peach ...
Página 20
J LITTLE HANDS SOFT little hands that stray and clutch , Like fern fronds curl and uncurl bold , While baby faces lie in such Close sleep as flowers at night that fold , What is it you would clasp and hold , Wandering outstretched with ...
J LITTLE HANDS SOFT little hands that stray and clutch , Like fern fronds curl and uncurl bold , While baby faces lie in such Close sleep as flowers at night that fold , What is it you would clasp and hold , Wandering outstretched with ...
Página 23
... hands in wait to smooth so neat His pillow when its rumpled- A couch of rose leaves soft and sweet , Not one of which is crumpled ! " Will yonder dainty dimpled hand-- Size , nothing and a quarter- E'er grasp a saber , lead a band To ...
... hands in wait to smooth so neat His pillow when its rumpled- A couch of rose leaves soft and sweet , Not one of which is crumpled ! " Will yonder dainty dimpled hand-- Size , nothing and a quarter- E'er grasp a saber , lead a band To ...
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Outras edições - Ver tudo
Palavras e frases frequentes
Alfred Tennyson Algernon Charles Swinburne angels babe Baby Bell Beata mea Domina beauty birds blow blue Blynken breast breath bright brown brown thrush cheeks child Christina Georgina Rossetti cried dark dear door doth dream earth Eileen Aroon eyes face fair fairy fear feet flowers girl golden grace green grow hair hand happy hath hear heart heaven Jane Taylor kiss lady laugh light lips live look Love's lullaby maid merry moon morning mother ne'er never night o'er pretty Raggedy rain Robert Herrick Robert Louis Stevenson Rockaby rose round shine sigh sing sleep smile soft song soul stars tears tell thee There's thine things Thomas Campion thou thought tree voice weary weep William William Blake William Brighty Rands William Wordsworth wind wings wonder youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 1558 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Página 1529 - 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.
Página 259 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace : From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Página 1546 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
Página 629 - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Página 371 - Behold the child among his new-born blisses, A six years' darling of a pigmy size ! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes ! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral ; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues...
Página 773 - Twere better by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near ; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! " She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Página 628 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Página 1528 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in...
Página 327 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may...