A Treasury of English Sonnets

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David M. Main
A. Ireland and Company, 1880 - 470 стор.

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Сторінка 30 - Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee,—and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Сторінка 39 - In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by :— This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Сторінка 39 - boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang : In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in resL
Сторінка 211 - 7 TT OW do I love thee ? Let me count the ways. •*••*• I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and
Сторінка 97 - given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us
Сторінка 413 - This sonnet should be compared with WC Bryant's fine stanzas To a Waterfowl, which conclude— ' He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps
Сторінка 47 - Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And for they looked but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing : For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Сторінка 424 - Wordsworth's Song- at the Feast of Brougham Castle: • The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.' This and the sonnet given under cCCxx were written not later than February, 1823. They appeared in The London
Сторінка 289 - It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.' parallels. Cp. the beginning of the 2nd Sonnet : ' When fortie Winters shall beseige thy brow, And
Сторінка 105 - Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.

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