The English Poets, Том 4Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1893 |
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Стр. 285
... depths with bubbling groan , Without a grave , unknell'd , uncoffin'd , and unknown . His steps are not upon thy paths , thy fields Are not a spoil for him , -thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For ...
... depths with bubbling groan , Without a grave , unknell'd , uncoffin'd , and unknown . His steps are not upon thy paths , thy fields Are not a spoil for him , -thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For ...
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Ancient Mariner ballads beauty beneath bird blank verse breast breath bright Brignall brow Byron calm Charles Lamb Childe Harold Christabel cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Ebenezer Elliott EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë eyes fair fear feel flowers gaze gentle grave green hand Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour Keats lady lake Leigh Hunt light live lone look Lyrical Ballads mind moon mountains nature ne'er never night o'er once passion pleasure poems poet poetic poetry ROBERT SOUTHEY Roncesvalles rose round Samian wine shade Shelley sigh silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind wings Wordsworth youth
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Стр. 28 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Стр. 453 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
Стр. 324 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Стр. 459 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Стр. 53 - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
Стр. 41 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Стр. 124 - O Lady ! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live; Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud ! And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth — And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
Стр. 457 - 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. 83 - EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will:...
Стр. 59 - High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised : But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake, To perish never...
Библиографические данные
| Название | The English Poets, Том 4 The English Poets, Thomas Humphry Ward |
| Редактор | Thomas Humphry Ward |
| Издатель | Macmillan, 1893 |
| Владелец оригинала: | Гарвардский университет |
| Оцифровано | 8 ноя 2007 |
| Экспорт цитаты | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |