Gems of the Modern Poets: With Biographical NoticesCarey and Hart, 1842 - Всего страниц: 408 |
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Стр. 15
... wandering quit their household bowers ; Yet not for this wants Poesy a tongue To cheer the itinerant on whom she pours Her spirit , while she crosses lonely moors , Or , musing , sits forsaken halls among . ODE . INTIMATIONS OF ...
... wandering quit their household bowers ; Yet not for this wants Poesy a tongue To cheer the itinerant on whom she pours Her spirit , while she crosses lonely moors , Or , musing , sits forsaken halls among . ODE . INTIMATIONS OF ...
Стр. 63
... Wandering at the close of day , Will spread his sail and seize his oar Till he pass the gloomy shore , Lest thy dead should , from their sleep Bursting o'er the starlit deep , Lead a rapid masque of death O'er the waters of his path ...
... Wandering at the close of day , Will spread his sail and seize his oar Till he pass the gloomy shore , Lest thy dead should , from their sleep Bursting o'er the starlit deep , Lead a rapid masque of death O'er the waters of his path ...
Стр. 68
... hair the eyes of day , Kiss her until she be wearied out , Then wander o'er city , and sea , and land , Touching all with thine opiate wand , — Come , long sought ! When I arose and saw the dawn , I sighed 68 SHELLEY .
... hair the eyes of day , Kiss her until she be wearied out , Then wander o'er city , and sea , and land , Touching all with thine opiate wand , — Come , long sought ! When I arose and saw the dawn , I sighed 68 SHELLEY .
Стр. 76
... wander through the Eden of thy hand ; Praise the green arches , on the fountain clear See fragment shadows of the crossing deer ; And with that serviceable nymph I stoop , The crystal from its restless pool to scoop . I see no longer ...
... wander through the Eden of thy hand ; Praise the green arches , on the fountain clear See fragment shadows of the crossing deer ; And with that serviceable nymph I stoop , The crystal from its restless pool to scoop . I see no longer ...
Стр. 89
... wandering star ? Upon the cross He hung , and bowed the head , And pray'd for them that smote , and them that curst ; And , drop by drop , His slow life - blood was shed , And His last hour of suffering was His worst . THE MERRY HEART ...
... wandering star ? Upon the cross He hung , and bowed the head , And pray'd for them that smote , and them that curst ; And , drop by drop , His slow life - blood was shed , And His last hour of suffering was His worst . THE MERRY HEART ...
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Gems of the Modern Poets: With Biographical Notices Samuel Carter Hall Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
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beauty beneath bird born bower breast breath bright brow busy Bee calm Charles Dibdin Charles Lamb child Christ's Hospital cloud cold Dæmon dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth EDWIN HALE ABBOT fair fame fancy Farewell feel flowers friends gaze genius gentle glory gone grace grave green grief happy hath hear heard heart heaven holy orders hope hour human labour Lallah Rookh Leigh Hunt light living Lochinvar lonely look Lord Lord Byron maid Mary merry heart mind mother mountains nature ne'er never night o'er pale poems Poet poetry rose round sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow Sotheby soul sound spirit star sweet tears thee thine things Thomas Hood thou art thought Twas voice wander waves weary weep wild wind wings writings young youth
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Стр. 276 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 58 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Стр. 176 - O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place — Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! JAMES HOGG.
Стр. 10 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Стр. 15 - We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May ! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower ; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...
Стр. 63 - Thy brother Death came, and cried, "Would'st thou me?" Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, "Shall I nestle near thy side? Would'st thou me?"— And I replied, "No, not thee.
Стр. 164 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest...
Стр. 279 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven; Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven; And louder than the bolts of Heaven Far flash'd the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow; And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 490 'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
Стр. 41 - And often when I go to plough The ploughshare turns them out. For many thousand men/ said he, 'Were slain in that great victory.' 'Now tell us what 'twas all about...
Стр. 17 - Thus Nature spake — The work was done — How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm, and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be.