A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter |
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Стр. 21
Chorus hymeneal , Or triumphal chant , Match ' d with thine would be all But an
empty vauntA thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want . What objects are
the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ?
Chorus hymeneal , Or triumphal chant , Match ' d with thine would be all But an
empty vauntA thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want . What objects are
the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ?
Стр. 32
As if the ocean ' s heart were stirr ' d With inward life , a sound is heard , Like that
of dreamer murmuring in his sleep ; ' Tis partly the billow , and partly the air , That
lies like a garment floating fair Above the happy deep . The sea , I ween ...
As if the ocean ' s heart were stirr ' d With inward life , a sound is heard , Like that
of dreamer murmuring in his sleep ; ' Tis partly the billow , and partly the air , That
lies like a garment floating fair Above the happy deep . The sea , I ween ...
Стр. 35
At which word His brow would soften , and he bore witb me In melancholy
patience , not unkind ; While , breaking into voluble ecstasy , I flatter ' d all the
beauteous country round , As poets use - the skies , the clouds , the fields , The
happy ...
At which word His brow would soften , and he bore witb me In melancholy
patience , not unkind ; While , breaking into voluble ecstasy , I flatter ' d all the
beauteous country round , As poets use - the skies , the clouds , the fields , The
happy ...
Стр. 48
Right joyous are they when the happy birds Salute the morn with thousand -
throated songs , Or pour soft vespers to the setting sun , Singing the summer day
to balmy rest . Or when alone the cuckoo ' s monotone Lulls drowsy noon ; or
when ...
Right joyous are they when the happy birds Salute the morn with thousand -
throated songs , Or pour soft vespers to the setting sun , Singing the summer day
to balmy rest . Or when alone the cuckoo ' s monotone Lulls drowsy noon ; or
when ...
Стр. 68
... eyes are bathed in tears . But soon the morning ' s happier light Its glory shall
restore , And eyelids that are seald in death Shall wake to close no more .
PEABODY . October . OCTOBER skies are misty , cool and gray POEMS OF
NATURE.
... eyes are bathed in tears . But soon the morning ' s happier light Its glory shall
restore , And eyelids that are seald in death Shall wake to close no more .
PEABODY . October . OCTOBER skies are misty , cool and gray POEMS OF
NATURE.
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beauty beneath bird blessed blow blue breast breath bright calm close clouds comes dark dead dear death deep doth dreams earth face fair fall fear feel field flowers friends give glory golden grave green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy hope hour human king land leaves light living look Lord meet mind moon morn mother mountains nature never night o'er once pass peace praise pride rest rise rose round shade shadow shine shore side sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars stream summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand trees voice waters waves wide wild wind wings woods young
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Стр. 188 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Стр. 37 - 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.
Стр. 131 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight '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.
Стр. 39 - 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...
Стр. 57 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Стр. 188 - One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Стр. 131 - 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!
Стр. 283 - Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they ; The innocent brightness of a new-born day Is lovely yet ; The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Стр. 251 - And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, ) That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, "God for Harry! England and Saint George!
Стр. 31 - And I have loved thee, ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear ; For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Библиографические данные
| Название | A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter |
| Автор | Thomas Shorter |
| Редактор | Thomas Shorter |
| Опубликована: | 1861 |
| Владелец оригинала: | Оксфордский университет |
| Оцифровано | 27 сен 2006 |
| Экспорт цитаты | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |