The children's garland from the best poets, selected by C. Patmore, Edição 627Coventry Kersey D. Patmore 1873 |
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Página 7
... gold . A belt of straw and ivy buds , With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move , Come live with me and be my Love . Thy silver dishes for thy meat As precious as the gods do eat , Shall on an ivory table ...
... gold . A belt of straw and ivy buds , With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move , Come live with me and be my Love . Thy silver dishes for thy meat As precious as the gods do eat , Shall on an ivory table ...
Página 19
... Adhem ( may his tribe increase ) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace , And saw within the moonlight in his room , Making it rich , and like a lily in bloom , An angel writing in a book of gold : — C 2 Garland 19.
... Adhem ( may his tribe increase ) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace , And saw within the moonlight in his room , Making it rich , and like a lily in bloom , An angel writing in a book of gold : — C 2 Garland 19.
Página 20
Coventry Kersey D. Patmore. An angel writing in a book of gold : — Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold , And to the Presence in the room he said , ' What writest thou ? ' - The vision raised its head , And with a look made of all ...
Coventry Kersey D. Patmore. An angel writing in a book of gold : — Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold , And to the Presence in the room he said , ' What writest thou ? ' - The vision raised its head , And with a look made of all ...
Página 46
... gold or fee , To help thee to thy true love again , And deliver her unto thee ? ' ' I have no money , ' then quoth the young man , ' No ready gold nor fee , But I will swear upon a book Thy true servant for to be . ' ' How many miles is ...
... gold or fee , To help thee to thy true love again , And deliver her unto thee ? ' ' I have no money , ' then quoth the young man , ' No ready gold nor fee , But I will swear upon a book Thy true servant for to be . ' ' How many miles is ...
Página 47
... gold . ' This is not a fit match , ' quoth bold Robin Hood , ' That you do seem to make here , For since we are come into the church , The bride shall choose her own dear . ' Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth , And blew blasts ...
... gold . ' This is not a fit match , ' quoth bold Robin Hood , ' That you do seem to make here , For since we are come into the church , The bride shall choose her own dear . ' Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth , And blew blasts ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Children's Garland from the Best Poets. Selected and Arranged by ... Coventry Patmore Visualização integral - 1873 |
The Children's Garland from the Best Poets: Selected and Arranged by ... Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore Visualização integral - 1879 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
a-begging Abbot Binnorie bird bishop bishop of Hereford blow bower brave bright cheer child cold cried Crocodile dark daughter dead dear door Dora doth eyes fair fair lady fast father fear flowers gallant gallant story Gilpin gold green grew hand Hark hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill horse Inchcape Rock John John Barleycorn king lady land light Little John Little white Lily live Lochinvar look look'd Lord Lord Randal loud maid merry moon morning ne'er never Nevermore night o'er Old Ballad old courtier poison'd poor pray quoth Robin Hood rode round S. T. Coleridge shepherd sing smile song soon soul steed stood storm stream sweet Sweet William's Ghost tell thee thou thought took trees Twas unto wild Wildgrave wind wings Witch word young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 159 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?
Página 4 - I COME from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.
Página 67 - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!— To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!
Página 191 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and. curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Página 328 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail, And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown.
Página 194 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.
Página 61 - And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; "We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. "Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.
Página 80 - The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull.
Página 57 - It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath; His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Página 22 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...