The Poetical Works of S.T. Coleridge: Including the Dramas of Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya, Том 1W. Pickering, 1829 - 353 страница |
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Страница 34
... stole across the fading vale , To fan my Love I'd be the EVENING GALE ; Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest , And flutter my faint pinions on her breast ! On Seraph wing I'd float a DREAM by night , 34 JUVENILE POEMS .
... stole across the fading vale , To fan my Love I'd be the EVENING GALE ; Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest , And flutter my faint pinions on her breast ! On Seraph wing I'd float a DREAM by night , 34 JUVENILE POEMS .
Страница 72
... swelling , 0 ye blue - tumbling waves of the Sea ? Not always in Caves was my dwelling , Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree . Through the high - sounding halls of Cathlóma In the steps of my Beauty I strayed ; The Warriors beheld ...
... swelling , 0 ye blue - tumbling waves of the Sea ? Not always in Caves was my dwelling , Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree . Through the high - sounding halls of Cathlóma In the steps of my Beauty I strayed ; The Warriors beheld ...
Страница 124
... swelling of Ocean , they return to their native country . There , by the side of Fountains beneath Ci- tron - groves , the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors , being Men , they bad endured from Men . Warmed with new influence ...
... swelling of Ocean , they return to their native country . There , by the side of Fountains beneath Ci- tron - groves , the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors , being Men , they bad endured from Men . Warmed with new influence ...
Страница 133
... swelling , Oft , at night , in misty train , Rush around her narrow dwelling ! The exterminating fiend is fled- ( Foul her life , and dark her doom ) Mighty armies of the dead Dance like death - fires round her tomb ! Then with ...
... swelling , Oft , at night , in misty train , Rush around her narrow dwelling ! The exterminating fiend is fled- ( Foul her life , and dark her doom ) Mighty armies of the dead Dance like death - fires round her tomb ! Then with ...
Страница 144
... swelling slope , Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on , All golden with the never - bloomless furze , Which now blooms most profusely : but the dell , Bathed by the mist , is fresh and delicate As vernal corn - field , or the ...
... swelling slope , Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on , All golden with the never - bloomless furze , Which now blooms most profusely : but the dell , Bathed by the mist , is fresh and delicate As vernal corn - field , or the ...
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amid anguish babe beneath blessed bower breast breath breeze bright brow calm cheek child clouds Dæmon dance dark dart dear deep dream DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE Earth Ellen Faery Queen fair Fancy fear feel flowers Friend gale gaze gentle gleam groans haply hast hath hear heard heart heave Heaven hill holy Hope hour hues infant Jeremy Taylor KUBLA KHAN Lady LEE Boo Lewti light limbs lonely Love Maid Mary's neck meek melancholy mind MONODY Moon mossy Mother murmur muse ne'er night o'er pale PATRICK SPENCE pause Peace PIXIES pleasure Poem poor rose round S. T. COLERIDGE Scorpion King shaping mind sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song SONNET soothed sorrows soul spirit stars stream sweet swell tale tears thee thine thou thought Throne toil trembling twas vale voice waves weep wild wind wing youth
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Страница 320 - The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
Страница 319 - The Author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines...
Страница 319 - ... a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter.
Страница 245 - When he had better far have stretched his limbs Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell, By sun or moon-light, to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song And of his fame forgetful!
Страница 229 - Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun...
Страница 231 - With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue ocean! So my Friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense...
Страница 250 - Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit By its own moods interprets, everywhere Echo or mirror seeking of itself, And makes a toy of Thought.
Страница 136 - Cairo's swamps of pestilence, Even so, my countrymen I have we gone forth And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs, And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint With slow perdition murders the whole man, His body and his soul!
Страница 321 - twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Страница 151 - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.