The English Poets, Том 4Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1894 |
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... Dear harp of my country Echo • Oft in the stilly night ( from National Airs ) CHARLES WOLFE ( 1791-1823 ) · The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna Song . · CHARLES LAMB ( 1775-1834 ) Hester The Old Familiar Faces The Grandame . · On an ...
... Dear harp of my country Echo • Oft in the stilly night ( from National Airs ) CHARLES WOLFE ( 1791-1823 ) · The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna Song . · CHARLES LAMB ( 1775-1834 ) Hester The Old Familiar Faces The Grandame . · On an ...
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... dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , My dear dear Sister ...
... dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , My dear dear Sister ...
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... Of absence , these steep woods and lofty cliffs , And this green pastoral landscape , were to me More dear , both for themselves and for thy sake ! LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING . I heard a thousand 22 THE ENGLISH POET'S .
... Of absence , these steep woods and lofty cliffs , And this green pastoral landscape , were to me More dear , both for themselves and for thy sake ! LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING . I heard a thousand 22 THE ENGLISH POET'S .
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... dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round , And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face . And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height ...
... dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round , And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face . And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height ...
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... dear old Man replied , The grey - haired man of glee : ' No check , no stay , this Streamlet fears : How merrily it goes ! Twill murmur on a thousand years , And flow as now it flows . And here , on this delightful day , I cannot choose ...
... dear old Man replied , The grey - haired man of glee : ' No check , no stay , this Streamlet fears : How merrily it goes ! Twill murmur on a thousand years , And flow as now it flows . And here , on this delightful day , I cannot choose ...
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ballads beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright Byron Camelot charm cloud DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Emily Brontë English Excalibur eyes face fair fame fear feel flowers friends gaze Goethe grace grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour human Iacchus Keats King Arthur Lady Lady of Shalott light live lonely look Love's lyric Matthew Arnold mind moon morn mountains nature never night o'er once Oxus passion poems poet poetic poetry rose round Rustum Samian wine Seistan shadow Shalott shore silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro trees verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
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Страница 19 - Is lightened: — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Страница 284 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Страница 375 - WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With...
Страница 324 - 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 285 - Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, — Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee;...
Страница 83 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty : This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Страница 324 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Страница 376 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Страница 260 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Страница 740 - Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.