The English Poets: Wordsworth to TennysonMacmillan, 1902 |
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Sida 17
... head , A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread , His first sweet evening yellow . Books ! ' tis a dull and endless strife : Come , hear the woodland linnet , How sweet his music ! on my life , There's ...
... head , A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread , His first sweet evening yellow . Books ! ' tis a dull and endless strife : Come , hear the woodland linnet , How sweet his music ! on my life , There's ...
Sida 31
... head she bare ; Her brow was smooth and white : To see a child so very fair , It was a pure delight ! No fountain from its rocky cave E'er tripped with foot so free ; She seemed as happy as a wave That dances on the sea . There came ...
... head she bare ; Her brow was smooth and white : To see a child so very fair , It was a pure delight ! No fountain from its rocky cave E'er tripped with foot so free ; She seemed as happy as a wave That dances on the sea . There came ...
Sida 37
... head , With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather , In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard - seat ! And birds and flowers once more to greet , My last year's friends together . One have I ...
... head , With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather , In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard - seat ! And birds and flowers once more to greet , My last year's friends together . One have I ...
Sida 39
... head : And these grey rocks ; that household lawn ; Those trees , a veil just half withdrawn ; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake ; This little bay ; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode- In truth ...
... head : And these grey rocks ; that household lawn ; Those trees , a veil just half withdrawn ; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake ; This little bay ; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode- In truth ...
Sida 56
... head hath its coronal , The fulness of your bliss , I feel - I feel it all . Oh evil day ! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning , This sweet May - morning , And the Children are culling On every side , In a thousand valleys ...
... head hath its coronal , The fulness of your bliss , I feel - I feel it all . Oh evil day ! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning , This sweet May - morning , And the Children are culling On every side , In a thousand valleys ...
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Ancient Mariner ballads beauty beneath bird blank verse breast breath breeze bright Brignall brow Byron calm Charles Lamb Childe Harold Christabel cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë eyes fair Fanny Brawne fear feel flowers gaze gentle grace grave green hand Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour JOHN KEATS 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 Roncesvalles rose round Samian wine shade Shelley 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 Wordsworth youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 783 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Sida 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!
Sida 449 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Sida 19 - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Sida 401 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird ; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Sida 816 - SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me. And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark: And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho...
Sida 58 - 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 splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind ; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be ; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering ; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Sida 450 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet do not grieve: She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Sida 453 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Sida 320 - 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.