English Poetry of the Nineteenth Century: A Connected Representation of Poetic Art and Thought from 1798 to 1914George Roy Elliott, Norman Foerster Macmillan, 1923 - 825 sidor |
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Sida xvi
... Voice and the Peak Milkmaid's Song ( From Queen Mary ) The Revenge Rizpah Frater Ave Atque Vale To Virgil The Ancient Sage By an Evolutionist Far - Far - Away The Throstle • The Oak The Making of Man Doubt and Prayer Crossing the Bar ...
... Voice and the Peak Milkmaid's Song ( From Queen Mary ) The Revenge Rizpah Frater Ave Atque Vale To Virgil The Ancient Sage By an Evolutionist Far - Far - Away The Throstle • The Oak The Making of Man Doubt and Prayer Crossing the Bar ...
Sida 8
... voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights . Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , 120 My dear , dear Sister ! and this prayer I make ...
... voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights . Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , 120 My dear , dear Sister ! and this prayer I make ...
Sida 18
... voice pro- claims 815 How exquisitely the individual mind ( And the progressive powers perhaps no less Of the whole species ) to the external world Is fitted ; and how exquisitely , too Theme this but little heard of among men- 820 The ...
... voice pro- claims 815 How exquisitely the individual mind ( And the progressive powers perhaps no less Of the whole species ) to the external world Is fitted ; and how exquisitely , too Theme this but little heard of among men- 820 The ...
Sida 37
... voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear , From hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off , and near . Though babbling only to the vale , Of sunshine and of flowers , Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary ...
... voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear , From hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off , and near . Though babbling only to the vale , Of sunshine and of flowers , Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary ...
Sida 38
... Voice of God ! O Duty ! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide , a rod To check the erring , and reprove ; Thou , who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe ; From vain temptations dost set free ; And calm'st the weary ...
... Voice of God ! O Duty ! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide , a rod To check the erring , and reprove ; Thou , who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe ; From vain temptations dost set free ; And calm'st the weary ...
Vanliga ord och fraser
Adonais art thou Artemidora beauty beneath breast breath bright Camelot cloud cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Empedocles eternal eyes face fair fear feel flowers grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human King King Arthur lady Lady of Shalott Lamia leave light lips live look mind moon morn mortal mother mountains nature never night nymph o'er once Oxus pain painted veil pale pass passion Pausanias poem poet Proem Prometheus Prometheus Unbound rose round Rustum Samian wine Saturn shadow silent Simoïs sing sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul sound spake spirit stanza stars stood sweet tears Tennyson thee thine things thou art thought Tintern Abbey twas voice wandering waves weep wild wind wings words Wordsworth youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 159 - 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...
Sida 61 - Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Sida 207 - I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone. And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me? — And I replied, No, not thee!
Sida 238 - I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! , That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love: — then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
Sida 320 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
Sida 90 - The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — "Now tread we a measure!
Sida 320 - ... 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. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul,...
Sida 410 - And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there; so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps "Over my Lady's wrist too much...
Sida 364 - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate ; The red rose cries, ' She is near, she is near ; ' And the white rose weeps, ' She is late;' The larkspur listens, ' I hear, I hear ;' And the lily whispers,
Sida 254 - 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.