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banks beam beauty bids birds bloom blue born breath breeze bright Bring buds busy calm cheek close clouds colours comes dance darkness dear delight dewy distant doth early earth face fair fall fields flocks flowers fragrant give gleam green grove hands hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill leaves light live lonely lovers mark mind moon morn mountain murmur Muse nature's never night o'er o’er once pain pale peace pleasure purple robe rocks rose round scene scrip seems shade sigh sight silent sing smile soft song SONNET sorrow sound Spring star storm strain stream sweet thee thine things thou thought thro trees trembling wake wander waves wild wind wing Winter wish woods youth
第 96 頁 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
第 105 頁 - With coral clasps and amber studs ; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
第 94 頁 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
第 104 頁 - And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. There will we sit upon the rocks And see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.
第 12 頁 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
第 92 頁 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
第 94 頁 - Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies...
第 63 頁 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.