The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageFrancis Turner Palgrave Macmillan, 1891 - 381 pages |
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Page 4
... hath taught me thus to ruminate— That Time will come and take my Love away : —This thought is as a death , which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose . W. Shakespeare VI 2 Since brass , nor stone , nor earth , nor ...
... hath taught me thus to ruminate— That Time will come and take my Love away : —This thought is as a death , which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose . W. Shakespeare VI 2 Since brass , nor stone , nor earth , nor ...
Page 6
... hath charm'd me Long long to sing by rote , Fancying that that harm'd me : Yet when this thought doth come ' Love is the perfect sum Of all delight , ' I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write . O Love ! they ...
... hath charm'd me Long long to sing by rote , Fancying that that harm'd me : Yet when this thought doth come ' Love is the perfect sum Of all delight , ' I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write . O Love ! they ...
Page 8
... Who loves a mistress of such quality , His mind hath found Affection's ground Beyond time , place , and mortality . To hearts that cannot vary Absence is present , Time doth tarry . By absence this good means I gain , That I 8 Book.
... Who loves a mistress of such quality , His mind hath found Affection's ground Beyond time , place , and mortality . To hearts that cannot vary Absence is present , Time doth tarry . By absence this good means I gain , That I 8 Book.
Page 10
... hath my absence been From Thee , the pleasure of the fleeting year ! What freezings have I felt , what dark days seen , What old December's bareness every where ! And yet this time removed was summer's time : The teeming autumn , big ...
... hath my absence been From Thee , the pleasure of the fleeting year ! What freezings have I felt , what dark days seen , What old December's bareness every where ! And yet this time removed was summer's time : The teeming autumn , big ...
Page 12
Francis Turner Palgrave. So your sweet hue , which methinks still doth stand , Hath motion , and mine eye may be deceived : For fear of which , hear this , thou age unbred , - Ere you were born , was beauty's summer dead . W. Shakespeare ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. So your sweet hue , which methinks still doth stand , Hath motion , and mine eye may be deceived : For fear of which , hear this , thou age unbred , - Ere you were born , was beauty's summer dead . W. Shakespeare ...
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Common terms and phrases
Arethuse beauty beneath birds bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair Fancy fear flowers frae FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE gentle glory golden Gray green H. F. Lyte happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill kiss leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's Lycidas lyre LYRICAL maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poem Poetry poets rose round seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly waves weep white-thorn wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 208 - 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 332 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 77 - 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 sere: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May; Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Page 308 - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
Page 12 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Page 287 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 280 - Darkling I listen ; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I...
Page 276 - 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. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know,...
Page 4 - 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.
Page 20 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.