Nightingale Valley: A Collection, Including a Great Number of the Choicest Lyrics and Short Poems in the English LanguageBell and Daldy, 1860 - 288页 |
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Auld Robin Gray BALLAD bells beneath bird bonny boughs bower breast breath bright burning Busk chamber door cheek Clerk Saunders cold COLERIDGE dance dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edom ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Eugene Aram eyes fair fairy flowers frae Glen grave green grey hair hand happy hath hear heart heaven heigh-ho hour kiss'd lady Lady Anne Lindsay lay a-thinking leaves light look'd Lord Randal loud lover melancholy merry mither moon morning mountain ne'er never Nevermore night o'er pale Quoth the raven Richard Lovelace river rose round sall seem'd shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul stars sweet tears tempests thee thine thou thought turn'd Twas unto violets voice wave weary weep wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM WILLIAM BLAKE wind wings WORDSWORTH Yarrow
热门引用章节
第153页 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky! That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho unto the green holly! Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then heigh-ho the holly! This life is most jolly. SHAKESPEARE.
第16页 - I pray thee then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote, and vanish'd. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And show'd the names whom love of God had bless'd, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. LEIGH HUNT.
第14页 - Who late and early doth God pray More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend : This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all. SIR HENRY WOTTON.
第198页 - THE TEMPEST."] WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry; On the bat's back I do fly After summer, merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough! SHAKESPEARE.
第140页 - ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE. i. MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness,—
第173页 - tears, I know not what they mean, \_ Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the under world,
第217页 - hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking marybuds begin To ope their golden eyes ; With every thing that pretty bin : My lady sweet, arise. Arise, arise! SONG.
第14页 - fame or private breath : Who envies none that chance doth raise, Or vice ; who never understood How deepest wounds are given by praise ; Nor rules of state, but rules of good : Who hath his life from humours freed; Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make accusers great: Who
第180页 - Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes, Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover! MICHAEL DRAYTON.
第95页 - FROM you I have been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet not the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any