A Festival of Art, Poetry and Song: Selections from the Greatest Poets of the English LanguageScammell, 1880 - 392 pages |
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Page 19
... turn to the real - let us accompany the genial author of The Sketch - Book , and seek the grave of Shakspeare : - " The place is solemn and sepulchral : tall elms wave before the pointed windows , and the Avon , which runs at a short ...
... turn to the real - let us accompany the genial author of The Sketch - Book , and seek the grave of Shakspeare : - " The place is solemn and sepulchral : tall elms wave before the pointed windows , and the Avon , which runs at a short ...
Page 21
... turn away , " And lose the name of action . 2 From this noble reach of philosophy , turn we to the fine impas- sioned burst of Romeo in the garden : - But , soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ! It is the east , and Juliet is ...
... turn away , " And lose the name of action . 2 From this noble reach of philosophy , turn we to the fine impas- sioned burst of Romeo in the garden : - But , soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ! It is the east , and Juliet is ...
Page 47
... turns the string ; He music plays if so I sing ; He lends me every lovely thing , Yet cruel he my heart doth sting : Whist , wanton , still ye , Else I , with roses , every day Will whip you hence , And bind you , when you long to play ...
... turns the string ; He music plays if so I sing ; He lends me every lovely thing , Yet cruel he my heart doth sting : Whist , wanton , still ye , Else I , with roses , every day Will whip you hence , And bind you , when you long to play ...
Page 55
... , and lived amidst the most romantic scenery , at his fine castle on the banks of the Esk . following are his beautiful sonnets on Spring : - The Sweet Spring ! thou turn'st with all thy goodly train. 55 JAMES HART, N LANDSCAPE-SPRING.
... , and lived amidst the most romantic scenery , at his fine castle on the banks of the Esk . following are his beautiful sonnets on Spring : - The Sweet Spring ! thou turn'st with all thy goodly train. 55 JAMES HART, N LANDSCAPE-SPRING.
Page 56
... turn'st , sweet youth , but , ah ! my pleasant hours And happy days with thee come not again ; The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee turn , which turn my sweets in sours ! Thou art the same which still thou wast before ...
... turn'st , sweet youth , but , ah ! my pleasant hours And happy days with thee come not again ; The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee turn , which turn my sweets in sours ! Thou art the same which still thou wast before ...
Contents
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A Festival of Art, Poetry and Song: Selections from the Greatest Poets of ... Frederick Saunders No preview available - 2008 |
Common terms and phrases
Annabel Lee bard beautiful bell Ben Jonson bird blest bloom blossoms bower breast breath bright Charles Lamb charm clouds dark dear death delight divine doth dreams dull earth dwelling earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fear flowers genius gentle GEOFFREY CHAUCER glory glowing golden grace grave green hair hand happy hath hear heart heaven hour kiss leaves light lines live look lover lyre lyric mind moon morning muse Nature's never night noble numbers nymph o'er old oaken bucket passage passion PHOEBE CARY pleasure poem poet poetic poetry rill rose round shade shining sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanzas stars stream summer sweet Tabard tears tell thee thine thou thought Tipsy band trees Twas Tybalt verse voice wave weary weep wild wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 315 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Page 39 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 21 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of?
Page 220 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Page 44 - You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Page 83 - Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Page 135 - He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 31 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments : love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be taken.
Page 36 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Page 274 - That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...