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" Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands: Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music... "
Poems: In Two Volumes - 第 37 頁
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson 著 - 1863
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The New Monthly Belle Assemblée, 第 30 卷

1849 - 468 頁
...Passion seeks the gratification of self; Love sacrifices itself. What says Tennyson ? — ' Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with...self, that trembling passed in music out of sight.' " " Cite proofs, and not the fictions of poetry, if you wish to convert me, Mr. Dundas. I could as...
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The Monthly Review

1842 - 610 頁
...turned it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with...morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And herwhisper throng'd my pulses with the fullness of the Spring. Many an evening by the waters did we...
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The Quarterly Review, 第 70 卷

William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1842 - 558 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper...
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Poems, 第 2 卷

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 250 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper...
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The Quarterly Review, 第 70 卷

1842 - 788 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper...
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Christian Examiner and Theological Review, 第 33 卷

1843 - 418 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper...
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Poems, 第 2 卷

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses .And her whisper...
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The Money-lender, 第 1 卷

Catherine Grace F. Gore, Mrs. Gore (Catherine Grace Frances) - 1843 - 890 頁
...moment, lightly shaken, run itself in golden sands; Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all its chords •with might— Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music oat of sight! TEKSTSON. No sooner did the picture-dealer notice the courteous familiarity with which...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1845 - 558 頁
...of Life, and smote on ill the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the spring. Many an .evening by the waters did we watch the...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 頁
...turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper...
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