A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets |
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Page xvii
... Sorrow ( King Lear ) 233 575 Portia and Brutus ( Julius Cæsar ) 130 Portia's Picture ( Merchant of Venice ) 40 Christmas in Olden Time Clan - Alpine , Fiery Cross of . Cæsar ) Clan - Alpine , Song of Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius ...
... Sorrow ( King Lear ) 233 575 Portia and Brutus ( Julius Cæsar ) 130 Portia's Picture ( Merchant of Venice ) 40 Christmas in Olden Time Clan - Alpine , Fiery Cross of . Cæsar ) Clan - Alpine , Song of Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius ...
Page 8
... sorrow , and unsoiled by sin ; ( My dear , the child is swallowing a pin ! ) Thou little tricksy Puck ! With antic toys so funnily bestuck , Light as the singing bird that rings the air , ( The door ! the door ! he'll tumble down the ...
... sorrow , and unsoiled by sin ; ( My dear , the child is swallowing a pin ! ) Thou little tricksy Puck ! With antic toys so funnily bestuck , Light as the singing bird that rings the air , ( The door ! the door ! he'll tumble down the ...
Page 22
... sorrow , wrong , and ruth , In thy heart the dew of youth , On thy lips the smile of truth . O , that dew , like balm , shall steal Into wounds that cannot heal , Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; And that smile , like sunshine , dart ...
... sorrow , wrong , and ruth , In thy heart the dew of youth , On thy lips the smile of truth . O , that dew , like balm , shall steal Into wounds that cannot heal , Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; And that smile , like sunshine , dart ...
Page 32
... sorrow , Whose weal and woe were thine , - It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow , But I've in vain essayed it , And feel I cannot now . While memory bids me weep thee , Nor thoughts nor words are free , The grief is fixed ...
... sorrow , Whose weal and woe were thine , - It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow , But I've in vain essayed it , And feel I cannot now . While memory bids me weep thee , Nor thoughts nor words are free , The grief is fixed ...
Page 36
... sorrow better : - Portia is dead . CAS . Ha ! Portia ? BRU . She is dead . CAS . How ' scaped I killing , when I crossed you so ? - O insupportable and touching loss ! Upon what sickness ? BRU . Impatient of my absence , And grief that ...
... sorrow better : - Portia is dead . CAS . Ha ! Portia ? BRU . She is dead . CAS . How ' scaped I killing , when I crossed you so ? - O insupportable and touching loss ! Upon what sickness ? BRU . Impatient of my absence , And grief that ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALEXANDER POPE ALFRED TENNYSON beauty bells beneath bird blessed bosom breast breath bright brow cheek clouds cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes face fair fear flowers gentle glory gone grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hill hour JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER king kiss lady land leaves light lips live look Lord moon morning mother ne'er never nevermore night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY praise rest ROBERT BURNS rose round shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stood sweet tears tell thee There's thine things THOMAS HOOD THOMAS MOORE thou art thought tree voice wave weary weep wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
Popular passages
Page 234 - Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 192 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 641 - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Page 621 - Haunted forever by the eternal mind! — Mighty prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou over whom thy immortality Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, A presence which is not to be put by; Thou little child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness...
Page 580 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 582 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides: Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe; And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee...
Page 644 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Page 259 - DOES the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before.
Page 544 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden -flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Page 395 - Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight! " " How they'll greet us ! " — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets