The minor poems of William Cowper |
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appear beauties beneath bird boast callid cause close dear death delight divine dream dwell earth ease eyes fair fall fear feel flowers force friendship Gilpin give grace half hand happy hast head hear heard heart Heaven hope hour John JOHN SHARPE kind knew known LADY length less light live looks lost Mary meet mind Muses Nature needs never night o'er once peace perhaps play pleasure poet poor present prove rest rose round scene secure seem'd seems shine shore side sight sing skies smile song soon sorrow sound spring stone storm stream sweet tear tell thee theme thine thing thou thought treasure true truth Twas voice waste wind wish worth youth
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Стр. 15 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Стр. 14 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such?
Стр. 38 - ... of appetite; When, looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glow-worm by his spark; So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent: "Did you admire my lamp...
Стр. 53 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary ! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more, My Mary...
Стр. 94 - What news? what news? your tidings tell ; Tell me you must and shall — Say why bare-headed you are come, Or why you come at all ? Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke : I came because your horse would come ; And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road.
Стр. 15 - When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 75 The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Стр. 46 - With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Стр. 9 - Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them ; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives who lives an hour In ocean, self-upheld : And so long he, with unspent power, His destiny repeU'd : And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried —
Стр. 5 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Стр. 40 - Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade ! The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charm'd me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.