Moxon's standard penny readings [ed. by T. Hood]., Volumen3 |
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Resultados 1-5 de 17
Página 11
... say , as then I said , " Here in old time the hand of man hath been . " I looked upon the hill both far and near , More doleful place did never eye survey ; It seemed as if the spring - time came not here , And Nature here were willing ...
... say , as then I said , " Here in old time the hand of man hath been . " I looked upon the hill both far and near , More doleful place did never eye survey ; It seemed as if the spring - time came not here , And Nature here were willing ...
Página 12
... said he , " in times of old ! But something ails it now : the spot is curst . You see these lifeless stumps of aspen wood- Some say that they are beeches , others elms- These were the bower ; and here a mansion stood I 2 HART - LEAP WELL .
... said he , " in times of old ! But something ails it now : the spot is curst . You see these lifeless stumps of aspen wood- Some say that they are beeches , others elms- These were the bower ; and here a mansion stood I 2 HART - LEAP WELL .
Página 13
... , horse nor sheep , Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes , when all are fast asleep , This water doth send forth a dolorous groan . Some say that here a murder has been done , HART - LEAP WELL . 13.
... , horse nor sheep , Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes , when all are fast asleep , This water doth send forth a dolorous groan . Some say that here a murder has been done , HART - LEAP WELL . 13.
Página 14
Moxon Edward and co Thomas Hood. Some say that here a murder has been done , And blood cries out for blood : but , for my part , I've guessed , when I've been sitting in the sun , That it was all for that unhappy Hart . What thoughts ...
Moxon Edward and co Thomas Hood. Some say that here a murder has been done , And blood cries out for blood : but , for my part , I've guessed , when I've been sitting in the sun , That it was all for that unhappy Hart . What thoughts ...
Página 28
... say , my nearest , dearest friend , There's something in your eyes , your air , and that high instep's bend , That tells me you're of Arab race , —what- ever spot of earth , Cheapside , or Bow , or Stepney , had the honour of your birth ...
... say , my nearest , dearest friend , There's something in your eyes , your air , and that high instep's bend , That tells me you're of Arab race , —what- ever spot of earth , Cheapside , or Bow , or Stepney , had the honour of your birth ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
ALFRED TENNYSON Allah Allan answer'd Arab ARETHUSA barr'd bell beneath Bill Jones bless bow'd breast breath brow burnt chains Chippendale choristers church door cloud cold cried daughter dead dear death deep Dora dream earth evermore eyes fair fairies fancies father's fear feet fiends fifty priests gazed gone grew hands happy hath hear heard heart Heaven horse Houris Huntress HYMENEAL knew Left'nant light lips look look'd LOT IS THINE louder lullaby Mare Mary mound mountains Mudiboo Muse never night and day o'er old Don old familiar faces old woman once pray'd Ratisbon REGENT STREET rose round says sing Sir Walter sleep smile song soul spirit spring Squampash Flatts stamp'd stone stood sweet tapers tell thee There's things THOMAS HOOD Thou wert thought Twas Venice voice WEARY LOT wife wild William wind winding sheet woman of Berkeley
Pasajes populares
Página 66 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Página 68 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown...
Página 186 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music — summer's eve — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Página 50 - Far off the farmer came into the field And spied her not; for none of all his men Dare tell him Dora waited with the child; And Dora would have risen and gone to him, But her heart fail'd her; and the reapers reap'd, And the sun fell, and all the land was dark.
Página 10 - THE moving accident is not my trade ; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
Página 126 - THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful schooldays: All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Página 77 - ... weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green. — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. ' This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ; But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again.
Página 76 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love I No more of me you knew.
Página 42 - DORA. WITH farmer Allan at the farm abode William and Dora. William was his son, And she his niece. He often look'd at them. And often thought,
Página 69 - Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?