The English Poets, Том 4Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1894 |
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Страница 37
... rest In joy of voice and pinion ! Thou , Linnet ! in thy green array , Presiding Spirit here to - day , Dost lead the revels of the May , And this is thy dominion . While birds , and butterflies , and flowers , Make all one band of ...
... rest In joy of voice and pinion ! Thou , Linnet ! in thy green array , Presiding Spirit here to - day , Dost lead the revels of the May , And this is thy dominion . While birds , and butterflies , and flowers , Make all one band of ...
Страница 59
... rest , With new - fledged hope still fluttering in his breast : - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things , Fallings from us , vanishings ; Blank misgivings ...
... rest , With new - fledged hope still fluttering in his breast : - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things , Fallings from us , vanishings ; Blank misgivings ...
Страница 81
... rest upon their circumambient walls ; A temple framing of dimensions vast , And yet not too enormous for the sound Of human anthems , -choral song , or burst Sublime of instrumental harmony , To glorify the Eternal ! What if these Did ...
... rest upon their circumambient walls ; A temple framing of dimensions vast , And yet not too enormous for the sound Of human anthems , -choral song , or burst Sublime of instrumental harmony , To glorify the Eternal ! What if these Did ...
Страница 88
... shone Thy visionary majesties of light , How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest ( Dec. 24 , 1842 ) The Hill that rises to the south east , above Ambleside SAMUEL ROGERS . [ SAMUEL ROGERS was born at Stoke 88 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... shone Thy visionary majesties of light , How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest ( Dec. 24 , 1842 ) The Hill that rises to the south east , above Ambleside SAMUEL ROGERS . [ SAMUEL ROGERS was born at Stoke 88 THE ENGLISH POETS .
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... rest , Thy meek submission to thy God expressed , When thy last look , ere thought and feeling fled , A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed , What to thy soul its glad assurance gave , Its hope in death , its triumph o'er the grave ...
... rest , Thy meek submission to thy God expressed , When thy last look , ere thought and feeling fled , A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed , What to thy soul its glad assurance gave , Its hope in death , its triumph o'er the grave ...
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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
Популарни одломци
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.