The English Poets: Wordsworth to DobellThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1894 |
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Страница 13
... close to life's realities . In truth to Nature missing truth to Art ; For Art commends not counterparts and copies , But from our life a nobler life would shape , Bodies celestial from terrestrial raise , And teach us not jejunely what ...
... close to life's realities . In truth to Nature missing truth to Art ; For Art commends not counterparts and copies , But from our life a nobler life would shape , Bodies celestial from terrestrial raise , And teach us not jejunely what ...
Страница 18
... Close up those barren leaves ; Come forth , and bring with you a heart That watches and receives . ( 1798. ) LINES , COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY , ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR JULY 13 , 1798 . Five years ...
... Close up those barren leaves ; Come forth , and bring with you a heart That watches and receives . ( 1798. ) LINES , COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY , ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR JULY 13 , 1798 . Five years ...
Страница 24
... own God ; One to whose smooth - rubbed soul can cling Nor form , nor feeling , great or small ; A reasoning , self - sufficing thing , An intellectual All - in - all ! Shut close the door ; press down the latch ; 24 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... own God ; One to whose smooth - rubbed soul can cling Nor form , nor feeling , great or small ; A reasoning , self - sufficing thing , An intellectual All - in - all ! Shut close the door ; press down the latch ; 24 THE ENGLISH POETS .
Страница 25
Thomas Humphry Ward. Shut close the door ; press down the latch ; Sleep in thy intellectual crust ; Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch Near this unprofitable dust . But who is He , with modest looks , And clad in homely russet brown ? He ...
Thomas Humphry Ward. Shut close the door ; press down the latch ; Sleep in thy intellectual crust ; Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch Near this unprofitable dust . But who is He , with modest looks , And clad in homely russet brown ? He ...
Страница 57
... close Upon the growing Boy , But He beholds the light , and whence it flows He sees it in his joy ; The Youth , who daily farther from the east Must travel , still is Nature's Priest , And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended ...
... close Upon the growing Boy , But He beholds the light , and whence it flows He sees it in his joy ; The Youth , who daily farther from the east Must travel , still is Nature's Priest , And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended ...
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Artemidora ballads beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright Byron Camelot cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë English eyes face fair fear feel flowers friends gaze grace grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour human Keats King Arthur lady Lady of Shalott light live lonely look Lyrical Ballads Matthew Arnold mind moon morn mortal mountains nature never night o'er once passion poems poet poetic poetry rose round Samian wine shadow Shelley sigh silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro trees truth Twas verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
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Страница 57 - mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song; Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy...
Страница 324 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Страница 42 - Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings ? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago : Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day ? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again ? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending ; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending ; I listened, motionless and still ; And, as I mounted...
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Страница 790 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Страница 22 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is...
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Страница 57 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his newborn blisses, A six years