The children's garland from the best poets, selected by C. Patmore, Edição 627Coventry Kersey D. Patmore 1873 |
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Página vii
... night , when mortals lose 295 Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise 70 Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain . 115 Beside the Moldau's rushing stream . 96 Clear had the day been from the dawn . 25 Close by ...
... night , when mortals lose 295 Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise 70 Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain . 115 Beside the Moldau's rushing stream . 96 Clear had the day been from the dawn . 25 Close by ...
Página ix
... to show 49 Our bugles sang truce , for the night cloud had lower'd 182 Piping down the valleys wild 1 Proud Maisie is in the wood 305 Remember us poor Mayers all . 233 See the Kitten on the wall . Seven daughter had Index ix.
... to show 49 Our bugles sang truce , for the night cloud had lower'd 182 Piping down the valleys wild 1 Proud Maisie is in the wood 305 Remember us poor Mayers all . 233 See the Kitten on the wall . Seven daughter had Index ix.
Página x
... night 98 Thou that hast a daughter . Tiger , tiger , burning bright . To grass , or leaf , or fruit , or wall . 76 158 302 To sea ! to sea ! the calm is o'er 248 Toll for the brave . 56 Tread lightly here , for here , ' tis said 254 ...
... night 98 Thou that hast a daughter . Tiger , tiger , burning bright . To grass , or leaf , or fruit , or wall . 76 158 302 To sea ! to sea ! the calm is o'er 248 Toll for the brave . 56 Tread lightly here , for here , ' tis said 254 ...
Página 3
... night That the graves , all gaping wide , Every one lets forth his sprite , In the churchway paths to glide : And we fairies , that do run , By the triple Hecate's team , From the presence of the sun , Following darkness like a dream ...
... night That the graves , all gaping wide , Every one lets forth his sprite , In the churchway paths to glide : And we fairies , that do run , By the triple Hecate's team , From the presence of the sun , Following darkness like a dream ...
Página 6
... Night : They follow in the track of Day , In divine delight . Shine on , sweet orbed Souls for aye , For ever calm , for ever bright : We ask not whither lies your way , Nor whence ye came , nor what your light . Be - still a dream ...
... Night : They follow in the track of Day , In divine delight . Shine on , sweet orbed Souls for aye , For ever calm , for ever bright : We ask not whither lies your way , Nor whence ye came , nor what your light . Be - still a dream ...
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...