Choice poems and lyrics, for study and delight, ed. by J.T. Ashby1879 - English poetry |
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Page 3
... soft and slow , Amid the verdant landscape flow . Though in the paths of death I tread , With gloomy horrors overspread , My steadfast heart shall fear no ill , For Thou , O Lord , art with me still : Thy friendly crook2 shall give me ...
... soft and slow , Amid the verdant landscape flow . Though in the paths of death I tread , With gloomy horrors overspread , My steadfast heart shall fear no ill , For Thou , O Lord , art with me still : Thy friendly crook2 shall give me ...
Page 10
... All these their Maker own . 1 trophies - tokens of victory . 2 pervades - occupies all . All the air a solemn stillness holds . ' Gray . Now nature sinks in soft repose , A living semblance ΙΟ CHOICE POEMS AND LYRICS . Knowles.
... All these their Maker own . 1 trophies - tokens of victory . 2 pervades - occupies all . All the air a solemn stillness holds . ' Gray . Now nature sinks in soft repose , A living semblance ΙΟ CHOICE POEMS AND LYRICS . Knowles.
Page 11
Choice poems J T Ashby. Now nature sinks in soft repose , A living semblance of the grave ; The dew steals noiseless on the rose , The boughs have almost ceased to wave ; The silent sky , the sleeping earth , Tree , mountain , stream ...
Choice poems J T Ashby. Now nature sinks in soft repose , A living semblance of the grave ; The dew steals noiseless on the rose , The boughs have almost ceased to wave ; The silent sky , the sleeping earth , Tree , mountain , stream ...
Page 19
... soft white hands , And tender flesh that fears the cold , Nor dares to wear a garment old ; A heritage , it seems to me , One scarce would wish to hold in fee . The rich man's son inherits cares ; The bank may break , the factory burn ...
... soft white hands , And tender flesh that fears the cold , Nor dares to wear a garment old ; A heritage , it seems to me , One scarce would wish to hold in fee . The rich man's son inherits cares ; The bank may break , the factory burn ...
Page 21
... soft white hands , And tender flesh that fears the cold , Nor dares to wear a garment old ; A heritage , it seems to me , One scarce would wish to hold in fee . The rich man's son inherits cares ; The bank may break , the factory burn ...
... soft white hands , And tender flesh that fears the cold , Nor dares to wear a garment old ; A heritage , it seems to me , One scarce would wish to hold in fee . The rich man's son inherits cares ; The bank may break , the factory burn ...
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Choice Poems And Lyrics, For Study And Delight, Ed. By J.t. Ashby Choice Poems No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
American poet Bay of Spezia beautiful beneath Bernard Barton binding shoes birds bless bloom blue born boughs bowers breast breath breeze bright Charles Kingsley cheerful child clouds cool dark dead deep delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair fear feel Felicia Dorothea Hemans flow flowers grass green happy hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hill hold in fee Holly Tree HYMN James Russell Lowell John Keble lamb leaves life's light living man's son inherits merry morning mountain murmur Nathaniel Parker Willis never night Nightingale o'er poems poetry river round Samuel Lover scorn shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stars stream summer sweet thee There's thine things Thomas Hood thou thought vale verse voice wandering waves wild William Cullen Bryant wind wings woods youth
Popular passages
Page 169 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory!
Page 48 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower...
Page 81 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean,...
Page 90 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 8 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown . For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Page 116 - A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Slippers, lined choicely for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw, and ivy buds, With coral clasps, and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Page 75 - QUEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space, to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st...
Page 12 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on Kings: Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 13 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
Page 90 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest — but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.