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“O, the pleasant days of old!” |
Frances Browne |
1836 |
English |
O, The PLEASANT days of old, which so often people praise!
True, they wanted all the luxuries that grace our modern days:
Bare floors were strewed with rushes, the walls let in the cold;
O, how they must have shivered in those pleasant days of old!
O, those... |
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“O, saw ye the lass?” |
Richard Ryan |
|
English |
O, Saw ye the lass wi’ the bonny blue een?
Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen;
Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween;
She ’s the loveliest lassie that trips on the green.
The home of my love is below in the valley,
Where wild-flowers... |
|
“O, saw ye bonnie Leslie?” |
Robert Burns |
1779 |
English |
O, Saw ye bonnie Leslie
As she gaed o’er the border?
She ’s gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love her,
And love but her forever;
For nature made her what she is,
And ne’er made sic anither!... |
|
“O, my Luve ’s like a red, red rose” |
Robert Burns |
1779 |
English |
O, My Luve ’s like a red, red rose
That ’s newly sprung in June:
O, my Luve ’s like the melodie
That ’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’... |
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“O, may I join the choir invisible!” |
George Eliot |
|
English |
O, May I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
Of miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime... |
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“O, lay thy hand in mine, dear!” |
Gerald Massey |
|
English |
O, Lay thy hand in mine, dear!
We ’re growing old;
But Time hath brought no sign, dear,
That hearts grow cold.
’T is long, long since our new love
Made life divine;
But age enricheth true love,
Like noble wine.
And lay thy... |
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“O, fairest of rural maids!” |
William Cullen Bryant |
1814 |
English |
O, Fairest of the rural maids!
Thy birth was in the forest shades;
Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky,
Were all that met thine infant eye.
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild,
And all the beauty of the place... |
|
“O, do not wanton with those eyes” |
Ben Jonson |
1592 |
English |
O, Do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;
Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.
O, be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me;
Nor look too kind on my desires,... |
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“O, breathe not his name” |
Thomas Moore |
1799 |
English |
Robert Emmet
O, BREATHE not his name! let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid;
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grave o’er his head.
But the night-dew that falls, though in... |
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“O yet we trust that somehow good” |
Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
|
English |
From “In Memoriam,” LIII.
O YET we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroyed,... |
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“O winter! wilt thou never, never go?” |
David Gray |
|
English |
O Winter! wilt thou never, never go?
O summer! but I weary for thy coming,
Longing once more to hear the Luggie flow,
And frugal bees, laboriously humming.
Now the east-wind diseases the infirm,
And they must crouch in corners from rough weather;
... |
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“O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad” |
Robert Burns |
1779 |
English |
O Whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad,
O whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad,
Tho’ father and mither and a’ should gae mad,
O whistle, and I ’ll come to you, my lad.
But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come na unless the back-yett be a-... |
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“O Swallow, Swallow, flying South” |
Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
|
English |
From “The Princess”
O SWALLOW, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee.
O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
... |
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“O mistress mine” |
William Shakespeare |
1584 |
English |
From “Twelfth Night,” Act II. Sc. 3.
O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true-love ’s coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting,—
Every wise man’s son... |
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“O Master, let me walk with thee” |
Washington Gladden |
|
English |
O Master, let me walk with thee
In lowly paths of service free;
Tell me thy secret; help me bear
The strain of toil, the fret of care;
Help me the slow of heart to move
By some clear winning word of love;
Teach me the wayward feet to stay,
... |
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“O little town of Bethlehem” |
Phillips Brooks |
|
English |
O Little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night... |
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“O Fire of God, the Comforter” |
Hildegard of Bingen |
|
English |
From the Latin by Richard Frederick Littledale
“O Ignis Spiritus Paracliti”
O FIRE of God, the Comforter, O life of all that live,
Holy art thou to quicken us, and holy, strength to give:
To heal the broken-hearted ones, their sorest wounds to bind,
O Spirit... |
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“O Captain! my Captain!” |
Walt Whitman |
1839 |
English |
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart!... |
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“Nothing to Wear” |
William Allen Butler |
|
English |
Miss Flora MCFLIMSEY, of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures me, each time she was there,
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris
(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history,
But plain Mrs. H., without... |
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“Nothing but leaves” |
Lucy Evelina Akerman |
1836 |
English |
Nothing but leaves; the spirit grieves
Over a wasted life;
Sin committed while conscience slept,
Promises made, but never kept,
Hatred, battle, and strife;
Nothing but leaves!
Nothing but leaves; no garnered sheaves
Of life’s... |
