Studies in PoetryDuckworth, 1910 - Всего страниц: 253 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 31
Стр. 3
... lost on its production . But small as it is , it is full of curious interest - a landmark so distinct that it arrests the historian of poetry . It was partly original , as I have already said , and on its original elements I shall ...
... lost on its production . But small as it is , it is full of curious interest - a landmark so distinct that it arrests the historian of poetry . It was partly original , as I have already said , and on its original elements I shall ...
Стр. 13
... lost but the high emotion of the moment , will write a single song , and write no more . There are instances of this in poetry , but they are very uncommon . But to have the power to write many songs , or even half a dozen of a ...
... lost but the high emotion of the moment , will write a single song , and write no more . There are instances of this in poetry , but they are very uncommon . But to have the power to write many songs , or even half a dozen of a ...
Стр. 21
... lost , of the pity of man for the world , of all things gracious , gentle , inno- cent , and tender . These are the daily wonders of the wonderful world that happy artist knew and sang and painted , and they are the wonders of a child ...
... lost , of the pity of man for the world , of all things gracious , gentle , inno- cent , and tender . These are the daily wonders of the wonderful world that happy artist knew and sang and painted , and they are the wonders of a child ...
Стр. 24
... Lost and Found , ' which are not dark with pain and sin and sorrow . Even here the child - nature bears its fruit ... Lost , and another , A Little Girl Lost - which are as ghastly as those on Lyca are lovely . its essence drew also ...
... Lost and Found , ' which are not dark with pain and sin and sorrow . Even here the child - nature bears its fruit ... Lost , and another , A Little Girl Lost - which are as ghastly as those on Lyca are lovely . its essence drew also ...
Стр. 27
... was equally vigorous . His poem of The Little Boy Lost is a direct blow at the cruelty of a religion which replaces natural love by authority as the basis of religion . The priest slays the child because it says WILLIAM BLAKE 27.
... was equally vigorous . His poem of The Little Boy Lost is a direct blow at the cruelty of a religion which replaces natural love by authority as the basis of religion . The priest slays the child because it says WILLIAM BLAKE 27.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Æschylus Alastor ballads beauty belongs Blake blank verse Border breathed Byron Celtic child clouds colour County Guy cries delight described dream earth elements Emilia emotion Endymion England English poetry Epipsychidion Eve of St expression eyes fancy feeling felt fire flowers forgiveness hear heart Heaven human Hyperion ideal ideas imagination impulse Keats Lamia land landscape lived loveliness lovers Lowland Marmion mingled Minstrel morality nature never noble pain pass passion past phrase pleasure poem poetic poets praise Prometheus Unbound pure realise romantic sake scenery Scott Shelley Shelley's sing Songs of Experience Songs of Innocence sorrow soul spirit story strange stream sweet swift temper tender tender song thee theme things thou thought tion touch true truth verse weary whole wild wind winged wonder Wordsworth write written wrote youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 223 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Стр. 17 - I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had...
Стр. 173 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is; What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
Стр. 52 - I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not...
Стр. 208 - Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'erdarkened ways Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits.
Стр. 172 - 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!
Стр. 106 - Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. '"Tell me, thou bonny bird. When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.' '"Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' — 'The grey-headed sexton, That delves the grave duly. "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
Стр. 14 - THE sun descending in the west The evening star does shine, The birds are silent in their nest And I must seek for mine, The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night...
Стр. 114 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.
Стр. 222 - Happiness. I look not for it if it be not in the present hour. Nothing startles me beyond the Moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights, or if a Sparrow come before my Window, I take part in its existence and pick about the Gravel.