Evenings in ArcadiaJohn Dennis E. Moxon, 1865 - Всего страниц: 321 |
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Стр. 33
... thou damm'st it up , the more it burns ; The current that with gentle murmur glides , Thou know'st , being stopp'd , impatiently doth rage ,; c 3 EVENINGS IN ARCADIA . 333.
... thou damm'st it up , the more it burns ; The current that with gentle murmur glides , Thou know'st , being stopp'd , impatiently doth rage ,; c 3 EVENINGS IN ARCADIA . 333.
Стр. 34
John Dennis. Thou know'st , being stopp'd , impatiently doth rage ,; But , when his fair course is not hindered , He ... Thou art an elm , my husband , I a vine , Whose weakness married to thy stronger state , Makes me 34 EVENINGS IN ...
John Dennis. Thou know'st , being stopp'd , impatiently doth rage ,; But , when his fair course is not hindered , He ... Thou art an elm , my husband , I a vine , Whose weakness married to thy stronger state , Makes me 34 EVENINGS IN ...
Стр. 37
... , and sweet Puck , You do their work , and they shall have good luck : Are not you he ? PUCK . " Thou speak'st aright ; I am that merry wanderer of the night . I jest to Oberon , and make him smile , EVENINGS IN ARCADIA . 37.
... , and sweet Puck , You do their work , and they shall have good luck : Are not you he ? PUCK . " Thou speak'st aright ; I am that merry wanderer of the night . I jest to Oberon , and make him smile , EVENINGS IN ARCADIA . 37.
Стр. 38
... thou hast disturb'd our sport . Therefore , the winds , piping to us in vain , As in revenge , have suck'd up from the sea Contagious fogs , which , falling in the land Have every pelting river made so proud , That they have overborne ...
... thou hast disturb'd our sport . Therefore , the winds , piping to us in vain , As in revenge , have suck'd up from the sea Contagious fogs , which , falling in the land Have every pelting river made so proud , That they have overborne ...
Стр. 42
... thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings , Still quiring to the young - eyed cherubins : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay , Doth grossly close it in , we cannot hear it . " STANLEY ...
... thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings , Still quiring to the young - eyed cherubins : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay , Doth grossly close it in , we cannot hear it . " STANLEY ...
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admire Ambrose Philips assertions Aurora Leigh beauty better Browning Browning's charm Chaucer Cowper Crabbe criticism cuckoo delight doth eclogues Edwin Morris English expression exquisite Faerie Queene fame fancy favourite feeling flocks flowers genius give green happy HARTLEY hath heart hills honour imagination immortal song Jeremy Taylor Johnson labour language Leigh Hunt Let me read lines living look Lycidas Milton mind nature Nature's never night noble o'er Paradise Lost passage passion pastoral perhaps pleasure poem poet poet's poetical Pope popular praise prove remember rural poetry rustic scarcely scene Sche shade Shakspeare shepherd sing sometimes song sorrow Southey Spenser spirit STANLEY stream style sublime summer sweet TALBOT Task taste tender Tennyson thee Thomson thou thought true truth uncon verse volume wild wise woods words Wordsworth write
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Стр. 126 - Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of time.
Стр. 103 - She shall be sportive as the Fawn That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs ; And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm Of mute insensate things. " The floating Clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy.
Стр. 38 - These are the forgeries of jealousy : And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Стр. 62 - SINCE there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done ; you get no more of me ! And I am glad, yea, glad, with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever ! Cancel all our vows ! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows, That we one jot of former love retain...
Стр. 275 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Стр. 52 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds...
Стр. 49 - I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own No other function...
Стр. 148 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No...
Стр. 55 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Стр. 35 - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!