Poems of Places: England and WalesHenry Wadsworth Longfellow J. R. Osgood, 1876 |
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
arms bard beauty behold beneath blood bower brave breast breath bright brow castle charm clouds crowned dark dead death deep doth dread Dunsmore heath earth eyes fair fame Felicia Hemans flowers Gêlert gloom glory grave gray green Grongar Hill groves hand Hark harp hath heard heart heaven Herne the hunter hill holy horn isle king King Arthur lady ladye land light live Llannon lonely look loud mead Michael Drayton mighty mountain murmur Muse night o'er peace prince proud queene river roar Robert Southey rocks Rosamonde Rose round Saxon scene shade shore sigh silent smile Snowdon's song soul sound steed stood stream sweet tears thee thine Thomas Warton thou art thoughts tower trees unto Urien vale WARKWORTH Hermitage warriors waves Wellesbourne wild William Lisle Bowles William Wordsworth Win-Hill wind Windsor woods Woodspring Wytham youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 105 - I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers and the lonely streams — wherever nature led; more like a man flying from something that he dreads, than one who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (the coarser pleasures of my boyish days, and their glad animal movements all gone by) to me was all in all.
Pàgina 174 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Pàgina 105 - If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro...
Pàgina 173 - And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Pàgina 193 - My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit— I sit and sing to them. And often after sunset, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. The first that died was little Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain, And then she went away.
Pàgina 193 - Her eyes were fair, and very fair : Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they ? I pray you tell.
Pàgina 104 - Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — Until, the breath of this co1poreal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Pàgina 197 - On a rock, whose haughty brow, Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Pàgina 106 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed ; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompence. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Pàgina 56 - THERE was a Boy ; ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander ! many a time, At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake...