Whetstones for wits; or, Double acrostics, by various hands, ed. by 'Crack'.1872 |
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Whetstones for Wits: Or, Double Acrostics, by Various Hands, Ed. by 'Crack ... Whetstones Sin vista previa disponible - 2013 |
Términos y frases comunes
abecedarian adieu Aldhelm ALEX alliteration band beautiful behold bird bliss brave bright British called CCIV charming Corn-law CRACK crown Crystal Palace dance dark dear desert shore double acrostic DOUBLEDAY e'er earth eighth English fair famed fear fifth fight fish flowers flows fourth friends fruit gaily give Greek green greenwood tree guess hand hath head heard heart Heaven Hebrew alphabet Hecate initial letters isle ket place king lady light live London look Lord Tomnoddy maid maiden martial music merry ne'er neath never night o'er play poem poets poor praise queen riddle river secret shows seventh Sibyls sing sixth song sought stream stroll subject words summer sweet sweetly syllables tale tell Thames thee third thou Tiger Tim town Twas twill URSUS verses village voice wander whole wind Xerxes young
Pasajes populares
Página lxxxi - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Página xxxiii - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures...
Página xxxiii - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Página xxxiii - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Página lxxxi - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Página xxxiii - Oh ! summer is a pleasant time, with all its sounds and sights ; Its dewy mornings, balmy eves, and tranquil calm delights. I sigh when first I see the leaves fall yellow on the plain, And all the winter long I sing — " Sweet summer, come again !" of his clothes, and brought him safely back to land.
Página cxxxv - Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on...
Página cliii - My Lord Tomnoddy he raised his head, And thus to Tiger Tim he said...