Beiträge zur neueren Literaturgeschichte, Том 1

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Сторінка 99 - Denn dein ist das Reich und die Kraft und die Herrlichkeit in Ewigkeit. AMEN.
Сторінка 231 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Сторінка 190 - A poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence, because he has no Identity — he is continually in for and filling some other Body — The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity — he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures.
Сторінка 231 - Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Сторінка 181 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud.
Сторінка 188 - Yes, I remember when the changeful earth, And twice five summers on my mind had stamped The faces of the moving year, even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty Old as creation, drinking in a pure Organic pleasure from the silver wreaths Of curling mist, or from the level plain Of waters coloured by impending clouds.
Сторінка 216 - Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries ; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
Сторінка 223 - Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again!
Сторінка 219 - Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms Minute yet beautiful.
Сторінка 188 - From Nature and her overflowing soul, I had received so much, that all my thoughts Were steeped in feeling ; I was only then Contented, when with bliss ineffable I felt the sentiment of Being spread O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still...

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