William Wordsworth: A BiographyCash, 1856 - Всего страниц: 508 |
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Стр. iii
... writings of the Poet have been the most constant companions , and his words the most abiding influences . But I would further wish to set up this volume as a pillar in memory of that old season when we first sat together with Wordsworth ...
... writings of the Poet have been the most constant companions , and his words the most abiding influences . But I would further wish to set up this volume as a pillar in memory of that old season when we first sat together with Wordsworth ...
Стр. iv
... writings of Wordsworth , but have no time to read what cannot be tripped lightly over . To many , the estimate I set on the Poet will seem too high . I regard him as the Third English Poet , and eminently the Poet of our Age . If to ...
... writings of Wordsworth , but have no time to read what cannot be tripped lightly over . To many , the estimate I set on the Poet will seem too high . I regard him as the Third English Poet , and eminently the Poet of our Age . If to ...
Стр. 4
... there are some men who have unfolded their life to us ; their secret and hidden life , in their writings , and we find in their life the working of principles , and we no- DEFINED . 5 There is a tice the influence of 4 ESTHETIC BIOGRAPHY.
... there are some men who have unfolded their life to us ; their secret and hidden life , in their writings , and we find in their life the working of principles , and we no- DEFINED . 5 There is a tice the influence of 4 ESTHETIC BIOGRAPHY.
Стр. 7
... writings , a volume might be produced not needless nor unacceptable to many readers . WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland , on the 7th of April , 1770. Although his father was only an attorney , and his mother the ...
... writings , a volume might be produced not needless nor unacceptable to many readers . WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland , on the 7th of April , 1770. Although his father was only an attorney , and his mother the ...
Стр. 29
... departure from the strict temperance of a lifetime . He began life a water drinker , and he confesses himself in several places of his writings a water drinker ; only on one occasion does he appear to have swerved , and the instance is D 3.
... departure from the strict temperance of a lifetime . He began life a water drinker , and he confesses himself in several places of his writings a water drinker ; only on one occasion does he appear to have swerved , and the instance is D 3.
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admiration affected ancient appear beautiful become beneath bright called character charm cloth Coleridge course critics deep delight doubt early earth especially faith feel felt forms frequently friends genius give hand heard heart heaven hills hope human idea illustration imagination impressions influence interest lake less light lines live look Lord meaning mental Milton mind moral mountain nature never objects once painting passed passion perhaps persons poems Poet Poet's poetry poor portrait present principles reader relation remarkable rest Review RICHARD COBDEN round seems seen sense side soul sound speak spirit stand suffering sympathy things thought tion true truth turn verse village voice walk waters whole wild winds woman wonderful Wordsworth worth writings young
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Стр. 366 - O FRIEND ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man among us is the best : No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry ; and these we adore : Plain living and high thinking are no more : The homely beauty of the good old cause...
Стр. 332 - The wind, the tempest roaring high, The tumult of a tropic sky, Might well be dangerous food For him, a Youth to whom was given So much of earth — so much of Heaven, And such impetuous blood.
Стр. 363 - 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. 363 - 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. 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. 377 - I trust is their destiny, to console the afflicted, to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier, to teach the young and the gracious of every age, to see, to think and feel, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous; this is their office, which I trust they will faithfully perform long after we (that is, all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves.
Стр. 326 - ... 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. 47 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Стр. 324 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Стр. 166 - There sometimes doth a leaping fish Send through the tarn a lonely cheer; The crags repeat the raven's croak, In symphony austere; Thither the rainbow comes — the cloud — And mists that spread the flying shroud; And sunbeams; and the sounding blast, That, if it could, would hurry past; But that enormous barrier holds it fast.