Songs of Innocence and Experience: with Other PoemsBasil Montagu Pickering, 1866 - 108 หน้า |
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ผลการค้นหา 1 - 5 จาก 12
หน้า x
... Poor Susan , The Two Thieves , Rural Architecture , and all that class of poems which drew down on Wordsworth the ridicule of Jeffrey and the short - sighted critics of that period . There is precisely the same exquisite tenderness and ...
... Poor Susan , The Two Thieves , Rural Architecture , and all that class of poems which drew down on Wordsworth the ridicule of Jeffrey and the short - sighted critics of that period . There is precisely the same exquisite tenderness and ...
หน้า 21
... like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among . Beneath them sit the aged men , wise guardians of the poor ; Then cherish pity , lest you drive an angel from your door . NIGHT . HE sun descending in the west , The. INNOCENCE . 27 ...
... like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among . Beneath them sit the aged men , wise guardians of the poor ; Then cherish pity , lest you drive an angel from your door . NIGHT . HE sun descending in the west , The. INNOCENCE . 27 ...
หน้า 57
... poor ? It is a land of poverty ! And their sun does never shine , And their fields are bleak and bare , And their ways are fill'd with thorns : It is eternal winter there . For where'er the sun does shine , And where'er the rain does ...
... poor ? It is a land of poverty ! And their sun does never shine , And their fields are bleak and bare , And their ways are fill'd with thorns : It is eternal winter there . For where'er the sun does shine , And where'er the rain does ...
หน้า 67
... poor ; And mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we . And mutual fear brings peace , Till the selfish loves increase ; Then cruelty knits a snare And spreads his baits with care . He sits down with holy fears , And waters the ...
... poor ; And mercy no more could be If all were as happy as we . And mutual fear brings peace , Till the selfish loves increase ; Then cruelty knits a snare And spreads his baits with care . He sits down with holy fears , And waters the ...
หน้า 83
... poor , And the wayfaring traveller , For ever open is his door . His grief is their eternal joy ; They make the roofs and walls to ring— Till from the fire on the hearth A little female babe does spring ; And she is all of solid fire ...
... poor , And the wayfaring traveller , For ever open is his door . His grief is their eternal joy ; They make the roofs and walls to ring— Till from the fire on the hearth A little female babe does spring ; And she is all of solid fire ...
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Allan Cunningham angel of Providence another's arm'd BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING beauty beguiles birds black black cloud blossoms bore bright CATULLUS Charles Lamb child Cloth deep desert wild devil Dost dread echoing green edition Engraved Title pub eyes face fairy skipp'd Fcap fear fill'd fled flower Frontispiece and Engraved frowning gold golden grave grief hand happy hear heaven HOLY THURSDAY human dress infant small Innocence and Experience kiss Land of Dreams laugh LITTLE BOY LOST Little lamb Long John Brown Lyca Lyrical Ballads maiden Mary Bell mercy Merrily merry mild morning never night o'er pale pipe pity pleasant poor Portrait and Engraved pretty rose-tree PROPERTIUS round shine sigh sing SONGS OF EXPERIENCE Songs of Innocence sorrow soul Stothard Sweet joy sweet love Sweet smiles tears tender Tennyson thee thou TIBULLUS tigers trembling uncut vols WALTON'S wandering wept William Blake William Bond Wordsworth youth
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หน้า xv - I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee!
หน้า 20 - THE sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine ; The birds are silent in their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night.
หน้า 63 - I wander thro' each charter'd street Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear: How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls; But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear.
หน้า 1 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me : — ' Pipe a song about a lamb :
หน้า 48 - I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore.
หน้า xv - Softest clothing, woolly, bright ; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee ? Dost thou know who made thee ? Little...
หน้า 51 - TIGER, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry ? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes ? On what wings dare he aspire ? What the hand dare seize the fire ? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
หน้า 52 - Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?
หน้า 18 - Thames waters flow. O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own. The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands. Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among: Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor. Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
หน้า 105 - The door of death is made of gold, That mortal eyes cannot behold ; But when the mortal eyes are closed, And cold and pale the limbs reposed, The soul awakes, and wondering sees In her mild hand the golden keys.