Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect
For ever piping songs for ever new.
For sure so fair a place was never seen; Of all that ever charmed romantic eye.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; / There are four seasons in the mind of man.
Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someone I do not know.
Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someone I do not know. I admire lolling on a lawn by a water-lilied pond to eat white currants and see goldfish: and go to the fair in the evening if I'm good. There is not hope for that --one is sure to get into some mess before evening.
God of the golden bow, / And of the golden lyre, / And of the golden hair, / And of the golden fire, / Charioteer / Of the patient year, / Where - where slept thine ire?
Good-night to the Season! - Another Will come, with its trifles and toys, And hurry away, like its brother, In sunshine, and odor, and noise
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; / Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, / Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Here are sweet-peas, on tip-toe for a flight:/ With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,/ And taper fingers catching at all things, / To bind them all about with tiny rings.
Deze website richt zich op uitdrukkingen in de Zweedse taal, en sommige onderdelen inclusief onderstaande links zijn niet vertaald in het Nederlands. Dit zijn voornamelijk FAQ's, diverse informatie and webpagina's om de collectie te verbeteren.
Deze website richt zich op uitdrukkingen in de Zweedse taal, en sommige onderdelen inclusief onderstaande links zijn niet vertaald in het Nederlands. Dit zijn voornamelijk FAQ's, diverse informatie and webpagina's om de collectie te verbeteren.