Comentarios de usuarios - Escribir una reseña
No hemos encontrado ninguna reseña en los sitios habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
admiration appear bear beauty beneath better born breath cents charm close criticism death delight died Edited English eyes face fair fear feel force genius give grace grave Gray green hand happy head hear heart Heaven hope hour human John kind King language less light lines live look Lord mind muse nature never night Notes o'er once pain pass passion perhaps play pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Pope praise pride published rest rise round seems sense shade side smile song soon soul sound spirit spring sweet taste tell thee things thou thought true truth turn verse virtue wind wish write youth
Página 331 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Página 533 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Página 262 - Other refuge have I none — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! , All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Página 602 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb!' So I piped with merry cheer. 'Piper, pipe that song again;
Página 530 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Página 462 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Página 90 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent: Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Página 559 - I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee! Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me.
Página 288 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...