A poetry-book of modern poets, selected and arranged by A. B. EdwardsAmelia Ann Blanford Edwards 1879 |
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Page 31
... mothers bore ; And there , perhaps , some seed is sown , The Heracleidan blood might own . Trust not for freedom to the Franks- They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords , and native ranks , The only hope of courage dwells ...
... mothers bore ; And there , perhaps , some seed is sown , The Heracleidan blood might own . Trust not for freedom to the Franks- They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords , and native ranks , The only hope of courage dwells ...
Page 46
... mother could bar , — “ Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar . So stately his form , and so lovely her face , That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret , and her father did fume , And the ...
... mother could bar , — “ Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar . So stately his form , and so lovely her face , That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret , and her father did fume , And the ...
Page 71
... mother then And newborn baby died : But things like that , you know , must be At every famous victory . " They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won ; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun : But things like ...
... mother then And newborn baby died : But things like that , you know , must be At every famous victory . " They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won ; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun : But things like ...
Page 92
... mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain ; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus , For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces , The ...
... mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain ; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus , For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces , The ...
Page 97
... mother , mother ! " low she cries- Persephone - Persephone ! “ O light , light , light ! " she cries , " farewell ; The coal - black horses wait for me . O shade of shades , where I must dwell , Demeter , mother , far from thee ! Modern ...
... mother , mother ! " low she cries- Persephone - Persephone ! “ O light , light , light ! " she cries , " farewell ; The coal - black horses wait for me . O shade of shades , where I must dwell , Demeter , mother , far from thee ! Modern ...
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Other editions - View all
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets, Selected and Arranged by A. B. Edwards Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BATTLE OF IVRY BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird boat boys come home breast breath bright Charlemagne CLEON clouds Cusha D. G. Rossetti dark dear death deep doth dream earth eyes Faintlier fair flowers foam gleam glory golden hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven ITYLUS kisses leaves light LINCOLNSHIRE living Lochinvar look Lord Lord Lytton loud March month Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon nest never night o'er once OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone poem rain river rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine sand shade shadow sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars STORM summer sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought tree uppe Verse voice waters waves weary weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
Popular passages
Page 75 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Page 133 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 109 - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Page 130 - 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, Clustered 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.
Page 219 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 62 - They say it was a shocking sight after the field was won; for many thousand bodies here lay rotting in the sun; but things like that, you know, must be after a famous victory. Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, and our good Prince Eugene. "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" said little Wilhelmine. "Nay... nay... my little girl," quoth he, "it was a famous victory. And everybody praised the Duke who this great fight did win." "But what good came of it at last?" quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I...
Page 114 - What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast...
Page 130 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Page 36 - The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,— "Now tread we a measure!
Page 129 - 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...