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Страница 85 - Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
Страница 7 - And inly answering all the senses round With octaves of a mystic depth and height, Which step out grandly to the infinite...
Страница 69 - I will say no more of Tennyson than that the more I have seen of him, the more cause I have to think him great.
Страница 54 - A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still, Until I die. Such pearl from Life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down. Were dreams to have at will, This would best heal my ill, This would I buy.
Страница 152 - MY heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a watered shoot ; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit ; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea ; My heart is gladder than all these Because my love is come to me.
Страница 91 - Fellow-commoner sprinkled here and there — Reading men and Sporting men — Fellows, and even Masters of Colleges, not indifferent to the prowess of their respective Crews — all these, conversing on all sorts of topics, from the Slang in Bell's Life to the last new German Revelation, and moving in ever-changing groups down the Shore of the River, at whose...
Страница 81 - ... it is not his business alone to translate language into language, but poesie into poesie; and poesie is of so subtle a spirit, that in pouring out of one language into another, it will all evaporate; and if a new spirit" be not added in the transfusion, there will remain nothing but a caput mortuum...
Страница 153 - Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time. Oh violets for the grave of youth, And bay for those dead in their prime; Give me the withered leaves I chose Before in the old time.