The English Poets, Volumen 4Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1893 |
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Página 10
... strange to his age ; it has ceased to be so to ours . In various ways and with varying merit , Thackeray and Dickens and George Eliot , and a crowd of writers , poets and novel- ists , have searched out the motifs of the highest poetry ...
... strange to his age ; it has ceased to be so to ours . In various ways and with varying merit , Thackeray and Dickens and George Eliot , and a crowd of writers , poets and novel- ists , have searched out the motifs of the highest poetry ...
Página 43
... Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn 1 My True - love sighed for sorrow ; And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! ' Oh ! green , ' said I , ' are Yarrow's holms , And sweet is Yarrow flowing ! Fair ...
... Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn 1 My True - love sighed for sorrow ; And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! ' Oh ! green , ' said I , ' are Yarrow's holms , And sweet is Yarrow flowing ! Fair ...
Página 70
... strange that all The terrors , pains , and early miseries , Regrets , vexations , lassitudes interfused Within my mind , should e'er have borne a part , And that a needful part , in making up The calm existence that is mine when I Am ...
... strange that all The terrors , pains , and early miseries , Regrets , vexations , lassitudes interfused Within my mind , should e'er have borne a part , And that a needful part , in making up The calm existence that is mine when I Am ...
Página 100
... much must that poor heart endure Which hopes from thee , and thee alone , a cure . NOVEMBER , 1793 . There is strange music in the 100 THE ENGLISH POETS . Written at Ostend Influence of Time on Grief November 1793 Austin Dobson.
... much must that poor heart endure Which hopes from thee , and thee alone , a cure . NOVEMBER , 1793 . There is strange music in the 100 THE ENGLISH POETS . Written at Ostend Influence of Time on Grief November 1793 Austin Dobson.
Página 101
Thomas Humphry Ward. NOVEMBER , 1793 . There is strange music in the stirring wind , When lowers the autumnal eve , and all alone To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone , Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclined Rock , and ...
Thomas Humphry Ward. NOVEMBER , 1793 . There is strange music in the stirring wind , When lowers the autumnal eve , and all alone To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone , Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclined Rock , and ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Ancient Mariner Artemidora ballads beauty beneath bird blank verse breast breath bright Byron calm Charles Lamb Christabel cloud cold Coleridge dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Ebenezer Elliott EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë eyes fair Fanny Brawne fear feel flowers gaze gentle grace green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven Heigho hour JOHN KEATS Keats lady Leigh Hunt light live look Lyrical Ballads mind moon mortal mountains nature never night o'er once passion poems poet poetic poetry rain ROBERT SOUTHEY rose round Samian wine shade shadow Shelley sigh silent sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought truth Twas verse voice WALTER LANDOR wandering waves weary well-a-day wild wind wings Wordsworth youth
Pasajes populares
Página 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...
Página 453 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
Página 324 - 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.
Página 459 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Página 53 - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
Página 41 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Página 124 - O Lady ! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live; Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud ! And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth — And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
Página 457 - 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 83 - EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will:...
Página 59 - High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised : But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake, To perish never...