Choice English Lyrics |
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Results 1-5 of 48
Page 15
... hour ; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower , And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower . — James BeATTIE . 4 . A GREETING . PACK clouds , away , and welcome day , With night ...
... hour ; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower , And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower . — James BeATTIE . 4 . A GREETING . PACK clouds , away , and welcome day , With night ...
Page 18
... hour since ; yet you not drest , Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the birds have matins said , And sung their thankful hymns : ' tis sin , Nay , profanation , to keep in , - Whenas a thousand virgins on this day , Spring ...
... hour since ; yet you not drest , Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the birds have matins said , And sung their thankful hymns : ' tis sin , Nay , profanation , to keep in , - Whenas a thousand virgins on this day , Spring ...
Page 28
... Hours , and Elves Who slept in buds the day , And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew , and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet , Prepare thy shadowy car . Then let me rove some wild and ...
... Hours , and Elves Who slept in buds the day , And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew , and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet , Prepare thy shadowy car . Then let me rove some wild and ...
Page 32
... hour , when I shall never Sleep again , but wake for ever . SIR THOMAS BROWNE . 16 . SERENADE . THE day is down into his bower ; In languid lights his feet he steeps ; The flush'd sky darkens , low and lower , And closes on the glowing ...
... hour , when I shall never Sleep again , but wake for ever . SIR THOMAS BROWNE . 16 . SERENADE . THE day is down into his bower ; In languid lights his feet he steeps ; The flush'd sky darkens , low and lower , And closes on the glowing ...
Page 35
... hours from the night , my dear . Now all the world is sleeping , love , But the Sage , his star - watch keeping , love , And I whose star , More glorious far , Is the eye from that casement peeping , love . Then awake ! till rise of sun ...
... hours from the night , my dear . Now all the world is sleeping , love , But the Sage , his star - watch keeping , love , And I whose star , More glorious far , Is the eye from that casement peeping , love . Then awake ! till rise of sun ...
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Common terms and phrases
abbot auld Avès ballad Barbara Allen battle BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN BATTLE OF NASEBY beauty birds blood blow bonnie breast bright Charlemagne cheek crown dead dear death deep doth dreams earth English eyes fair father flowers gallant glory grace grave green hair hand hath head hear heart heaven hill hour John King kiss Lady Clare land light live Lochinvar look Lord lovers maidens merry Minstrels and maids moon mother ne'er never night numbers o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY pibroch poem Procne Richard Barnfield ride ROBERT HERRICK Robin Hood rode rose Samian wine shepherds sigh sing sister sleep smile snow song sorrow soul Spirit spring star steed summer sweet tear tell Tereus thee thine thou art thou hast Toll slowly tree TWA BROTHERS TWA SISTERS unto waves wild WILLIAM WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
Popular passages
Page 48 - 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 54 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Page 200 - TO HELEN Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 94 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 186 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Page 73 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Page 49 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 158 - 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 bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Page 186 - GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying : And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
Page 102 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.