The Gypsy Trail: An Anthology for Campers, àÅèÁ·Õè 1M. Kennerley, 1914 - 397 ˹éÒ |
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¼Å¡Òäé¹ËÒ 1 - 5 ¨Ò¡ 59
˹éÒ 6
... hear the far , low summons , When the silver winds return ; Rills that run and streams that stammer , Goldenwing with his loud hammer , Icy brooks that brawl and clamor , Where the Indian willows burn ; Let me hearken to the calling ...
... hear the far , low summons , When the silver winds return ; Rills that run and streams that stammer , Goldenwing with his loud hammer , Icy brooks that brawl and clamor , Where the Indian willows burn ; Let me hearken to the calling ...
˹éÒ 8
... hear lake - water lapping with low sounds by the shore ; While I stand on the roadway or on the pave- ments grey , I hear it in the deep heart's core . William Butler Yeats O INTO THE TWILIGHT UTWORN heart in a time outworn , Come clear ...
... hear lake - water lapping with low sounds by the shore ; While I stand on the roadway or on the pave- ments grey , I hear it in the deep heart's core . William Butler Yeats O INTO THE TWILIGHT UTWORN heart in a time outworn , Come clear ...
˹éÒ 20
... hear , The first robin at his vespers Calling far , serene and clear . Soon the waking and the summons , Starting sap in bole and blade , And the bubbling marshy whisper Seeping up through bog and glade . Soon the frogs in silver chorus ...
... hear , The first robin at his vespers Calling far , serene and clear . Soon the waking and the summons , Starting sap in bole and blade , And the bubbling marshy whisper Seeping up through bog and glade . Soon the frogs in silver chorus ...
˹éÒ 25
... hear aye birds tune this merry lay- Cuckoo , jug - jug , pu - we , to - witta - woo ! The fields breathe sweet , the daisies kiss our feet , Young lovers meet , old wives a - sunning sit , In every street these tunes our ears do greet ...
... hear aye birds tune this merry lay- Cuckoo , jug - jug , pu - we , to - witta - woo ! The fields breathe sweet , the daisies kiss our feet , Young lovers meet , old wives a - sunning sit , In every street these tunes our ears do greet ...
˹éÒ 28
... hear the woodland linnet , How sweet his music ! on my life , There's more of wisdom in it . And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! He , too , is no mean preacher : Come forth into the light of things , Let Nature be your teacher ...
... hear the woodland linnet , How sweet his music ! on my life , There's more of wisdom in it . And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! He , too , is no mean preacher : Come forth into the light of things , Let Nature be your teacher ...
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Algernon Charles Swinburne Behold beneath birds Bliss Carman blow blue boughs breast breath bright calm Camelot clouds dark dear death deep doth dream earth Edward Carpenter eternal eyes fair feet fire flame float flower foam forest forever glad gleam golden green happy Hark hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Joseph von Eichendorff Lady of Shalott land laugh leaves Leetle Lac Grenier light live lone Lord Lord Tennyson Matthew Arnold moon morning mountain never night o'er ocean Percy Bysshe Shelley pine rain Ralph Waldo Emerson river road rocks round sail Samian wine shadow shining shore silent sing sleep snow soft song soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet thee thine things thou art thro tree unto vale voice Walt Whitman wander waters waves weary wild William Wordsworth wind wings woods yellow
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˹éÒ 368 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
˹éÒ 385 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
˹éÒ 332 - Wherever nature led: more like a man Flying from something that he dreads than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all.
˹éÒ 50 - THEN the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said : Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up now thy loins like a man; For I will demand of thee and answer thou me.
˹éÒ 357 - Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
˹éÒ 333 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock. The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
˹éÒ 83 - ULYSSES. IT little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly , both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Thro...
˹éÒ 334 - My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes.
˹éÒ 396 - Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy ! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
˹éÒ 251 - Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot.