The Library of Poetry and Song, Volume 3 |
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Pagina 727
It is not growing like a tree In bulk , doth make man better be ; Or standing long an
oak , three hundred year , To fall a log at last , dry , bald , and sear : A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May , Although it fall and die that night , - It was the plant and ...
It is not growing like a tree In bulk , doth make man better be ; Or standing long an
oak , three hundred year , To fall a log at last , dry , bald , and sear : A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May , Although it fall and die that night , - It was the plant and ...
Pagina 728
And hath in it the more of heavenly light , So it the fairer body doth procure This
only grant me , that my means may lie To habit in , and it more fairly dight Too low
for envy , for contempt too high . With cheerful grace and amiable sight ; Some ...
And hath in it the more of heavenly light , So it the fairer body doth procure This
only grant me , that my means may lie To habit in , and it more fairly dight Too low
for envy , for contempt too high . With cheerful grace and amiable sight ; Some ...
Pagina 731
That goodly beauty , albeit heavenly born , Is foul abused , and that celestial hue ,
Which doth the world with her delight adorn , Made but the bait of sin , and
sinners ' scorn , Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it , But every one
doth ...
That goodly beauty , albeit heavenly born , Is foul abused , and that celestial hue ,
Which doth the world with her delight adorn , Made but the bait of sin , and
sinners ' scorn , Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it , But every one
doth ...
Pagina 732
These manacles upon my arm I as my mistress ' favors wear ; And for to keep my
ankles warm I have some iron shackles there : These walls are but my garrison ;
this cell , Which men call jail , doth prove my citadel . What first I want is daily ...
These manacles upon my arm I as my mistress ' favors wear ; And for to keep my
ankles warm I have some iron shackles there : These walls are but my garrison ;
this cell , Which men call jail , doth prove my citadel . What first I want is daily ...
Pagina 734
Alas ! our time is here so short That in what state soe ' er ' t is spent , Of joy or woe
, does not import , Provided it be innocent . The one supinely yawns at rest , The
other eternally doth toil ; Each of them equally a beast , A pampered horse , a ...
Alas ! our time is here so short That in what state soe ' er ' t is spent , Of joy or woe
, does not import , Provided it be innocent . The one supinely yawns at rest , The
other eternally doth toil ; Each of them equally a beast , A pampered horse , a ...
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A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets ... William Cullen Bryant Volledige weergave - 1870 |
A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets William Cullen Bryant Volledige weergave - 1873 |
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
bear beauty beneath Book breath bright cold comes dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell give grave half hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour human John King lady land leaves lies light live look lord lost mind morning nature never night o'er once pass peace play pleasure poor POPE rest rise rose round seemed seen SHAKESPEARE side sing sleep smile soft song soon soul sound spirit spring stand stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought Till true turned voice walk waves wild wind wings wonder young
Populaire passages
Pagina 798 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Pagina 920 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Pagina 858 - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Pagina 822 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Pagina 876 - And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Pagina 737 - 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.
Pagina 822 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Pagina 812 - Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise...
Pagina 876 - Cassius' dagger through: See, what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar...
Pagina 853 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Bibliografische gegevens
| Titel | The Library of Poetry and Song, Volume 3 The Library of Poetry and Song, William Cullen Bryant |
| Redacteur | William Cullen Bryant |
| Editie | herzien |
| Uitgever | Doubleday, Page, 1925 |
| Oorspronkelijk uit | de University of Michigan |
| Gedigitaliseerd | 19 feb 2008 |
| Lengte | 1100 pagina's |
| Citatie exporteren | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |