The English Poets, Том 4Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1894 |
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... Spirit of Achilles ( from The Deformed Transformed ) 300 On this day I complete my thirty - sixth year WILLIAM ... Spirit PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ( 1792-1822 ) Stanzas - April 1814 . • • • 343 • · 346 • 346 346 • · Frederick W. H. Myers 348 ...
... Spirit of Achilles ( from The Deformed Transformed ) 300 On this day I complete my thirty - sixth year WILLIAM ... Spirit PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ( 1792-1822 ) Stanzas - April 1814 . • • • 343 • · 346 • 346 346 • · Frederick W. H. Myers 348 ...
Стр. 14
... spirit of ' aloofness ' and self - forgetfulness which , whether spontaneous or the result of the highest art , marks the highest types of poetry . Perhaps it is from this that he so rarely abandoned himself to that spirit of p ...
... spirit of ' aloofness ' and self - forgetfulness which , whether spontaneous or the result of the highest art , marks the highest types of poetry . Perhaps it is from this that he so rarely abandoned himself to that spirit of p ...
Стр. 16
... spirit breathed From dead men to their kind . You look round on your Mother Earth , As if she for no purpose bore you ; As if you were her first - born birth , And none had lived before you ! ' One morning thus , by Esthwaite lake ...
... spirit breathed From dead men to their kind . You look round on your Mother Earth , As if she for no purpose bore you ; As if you were her first - born birth , And none had lived before you ! ' One morning thus , by Esthwaite lake ...
Стр. 20
... spirit , have I turned to thee , O sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro ' the woods , How often has my spirit turned to thee ! And now , with gleams of half - extinguished thought , With many recognitions dim and faint , And somewhat of a ...
... spirit , have I turned to thee , O sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro ' the woods , How often has my spirit turned to thee ! And now , with gleams of half - extinguished thought , With many recognitions dim and faint , And somewhat of a ...
Стр. 21
... spirit , that impels All thinking things , all objects of all thought , And rolls through all things . Therefore am ... spirits to decay : For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river ; thou my dearest Friend , My dear ...
... spirit , that impels All thinking things , all objects of all thought , And rolls through all things . Therefore am ... spirits to decay : For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river ; thou my dearest Friend , My dear ...
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ballads beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright Byron Camelot charm cloud DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Emily Brontë English Excalibur eyes face fair fame fear feel flowers friends gaze Goethe grace grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour human Iacchus Keats King Arthur Lady Lady of Shalott light live lonely look Love's lyric Matthew Arnold mind moon morn mountains nature never night o'er once Oxus passion poems poet poetic poetry rose round Rustum Samian wine Seistan shadow Shalott shore silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro trees verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
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Стр. 19 - Is lightened: — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Стр. 284 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Стр. 375 - WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With...
Стр. 324 - 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. 285 - Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, — Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee;...
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.
Стр. 324 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Стр. 376 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Стр. 260 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Стр. 740 - Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.