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admiration appear beauty behold beneath blind breath bright brow cheer clouds course dark dear death deep delight earth face fair faith Fancy fear feel fields flowers genius gentle give given grace grave ground hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill hope hour human kind King Lady land leave less liberty light living look Lord memory mighty mind morning mountains nature never night o'er once pain pass peace Poems Poet poetry praise pure rest rise rock seemed seen shore side sight silent sleep soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stand stars stood stream sweet thee thine things thou thought touch true truth turn vale voice waters wild wind youth
Стр. 123 - O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
Стр. 134 - And when we came to Clovenford, Then said my ' winsome Marrow,' " Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the Braes of Yarrow." "Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town. Who have been buying, selling, Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own ; Each maiden to her dwelling ! On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, Hares couch, and rabbits burrow ! But we will downward with the Tweed, Nor turn aside to Yarrow. There's...
Стр. 35 - Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Стр. 50 - SCORN not the Sonnet ; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours ; with this key Shakspeare unlocked his heart ; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound ; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound ; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow : a glow-worm lamp, It...
Стр. 135 - What's Yarrow but a river bare, That glides the dark hills under ? There are a thousand such elsewhere As worthy of your wonder.
Стр. 191 - Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee ; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; And I by my affection was beguiled : What wonder if a Poet now and...
Стр. 41 - Dreams, books, are each a world ; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good : Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Стр. 134 - From Stirling castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled; Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said my " winsome Marrow" " Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the Braes of Yarrow.