The English Poets: Wordsworth to DobellThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1880 |
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... Lady Fitzgerald PAGE 82 82 83 83 84 84 85 85 86 86 87 87 88 Sir Henry Taylor 89 92 93 9-4 95 Austin Dobson 99 On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford to Naples [ Past Years of Home ] SAMUEL ROGERS ( 1763-1855 ) Extract from ...
... Lady Fitzgerald PAGE 82 82 83 83 84 84 85 85 86 86 87 87 88 Sir Henry Taylor 89 92 93 9-4 95 Austin Dobson 99 On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford to Naples [ Past Years of Home ] SAMUEL ROGERS ( 1763-1855 ) Extract from ...
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... this is his own account of the purpose of his poetry . ( Letter to Lady Beaumont , May , 1807. ) He has given the same account in the Preface to The Excursion . ' Not Chaos , not The darkest pit of lowest 2 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... this is his own account of the purpose of his poetry . ( Letter to Lady Beaumont , May , 1807. ) He has given the same account in the Preface to The Excursion . ' Not Chaos , not The darkest pit of lowest 2 THE ENGLISH POETS .
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... Lady of my own . Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The Girl , in rock and plain , In earth and heaven , in glade and bower , Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain . She shall be sportive as ...
... Lady of my own . Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The Girl , in rock and plain , In earth and heaven , in glade and bower , Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain . She shall be sportive as ...
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... royally did wear His crown of weeds , but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air , Or the unimaginable touch of Time . ( 1822. ) TO LADY FITZGERALD , IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR . Such 86 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... royally did wear His crown of weeds , but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air , Or the unimaginable touch of Time . ( 1822. ) TO LADY FITZGERALD , IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR . Such 86 THE ENGLISH POETS .
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Thomas Humphry Ward. TO LADY FITZGERALD , IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR . Such age how beautiful ! O Lady bright , Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind To something purer and more exquisite Than flesh ...
Thomas Humphry Ward. TO LADY FITZGERALD , IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR . Such age how beautiful ! O Lady bright , Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind To something purer and more exquisite Than flesh ...
Índice
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Términos y frases comunes
Artemidora ballads beauty beneath bird blank verse breast breath bright brow Byron calm Charles Lamb Childe Harold cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë eyes fair fear feel flowers gaze gentle grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour human JOHN KEATS Keats lady Leigh Hunt light live look Lyrical Ballads mind moon morn mortal mountains nature ne'er never night o'er passion pleasure poems poet poetic poetry River Duddon rose round Samian wine shade Shelley sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sonnets sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought trees truth Twas verse voice WALTER LANDOR wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
Pasajes populares
Página 15 - To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, 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...
Página 453 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 447 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Página 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!
Página 451 - 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?
Página 139 - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
Página 371 - 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 living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh hear!
Página 442 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: — Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Página 135 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Página 449 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth...