Acrostics and 'wild oats', with answers, Tema 179London, 1870 - 127 páginas |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
ACROSTICS Aurelian bear beast beneath beware birds bloom boys bright brightest British nation burning charms Cockney cold comes consanguinity dark dear dish doubt dread dress durance dwell earth Emblem Excalibur eyes fair Falstaff fame famous fight flower France friends Gaul girl give gloom glory glow gold gone grave guess hair hard hate head heart HIGH HOLBORN Iona isle kiss land Last light little pussy looked lover maid man's never night nose Number o'er Oakum ocean once Orsini Ostia Othello Painted Lady Palmyrene poets pray pretty Queen reckoned renowned roam roar rock rose sailed sailor Second snow stand stars strong potation Sullen and grim sweet Sweet and low tears tell thing Thou thyme Tiber tongue towers town trees Twas waves What's wife WILD OATS word young lady
Pasajes populares
Página 13 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Página 25 - The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks; They are all fire and every one doth shine; But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
Página 50 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Página 10 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.
Página 66 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Página 69 - So careful of the type?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries "a thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go. "Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.
Página 61 - Yew, which graspest at the stones That name the under-lying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head, Thy roots are wrapt about the bones. The seasons bring the flower again, And bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock Beats out the little lives of men.
Página 96 - Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Página 47 - Suffer me to be food to the wild beasts, by whom I shall attain unto God. For I am the wheat of God; and I shall be ground by the teeth of the wild beasts, that I may be found the pure bread of Christ.