Отзывы - Написать отзыв
Не удалось найти ни одного отзыва.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
admiration affected ancient appear beautiful beneath bright called character charm cloth clouds Coleridge course critics deep delight doubt early emotions especially faith fancy feel felt forms frequently genius give hand heart heaven hills hope human idea illustrations imagination impressions influence interest lake land less light lines live look meaning memory mental Milton mind moral mountain nature never objects once painting passed passion perhaps persons picture poems Poet Poet's poetry poor present principles reader relation remarkable rest round scenery seems seen sense side soul sound speak spirit stand suffering sympathy things thought true truth turn universal verse village voice walk waters whole wild winds woman wonderful Wordsworth worth writings young
Стр. 379 - 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. 377 - Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Стр. 377 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Стр. 176 - The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city — boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth, Far sinking into splendour — without end ! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted ; here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed ; there, towers begirt With battlements...
Стр. 16 - So through the darkness and the cold we flew, and not a voice was idle: with the din smitten, the precipices rang aloud; the leafless trees and every icy crag tinkled like iron; while far distant hills into the tumult sent an alien sound of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west the orange sky of evening died away.
Стр. 17 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels. Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!
Стр. 340 - ... During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbours, our conversations turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colours of imagination.
Стр. 359 - Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Стр. 211 - And then an open field they crossed : The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none ! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.