Evenings in ArcadiaJohn Dennis E. Moxon, 1865 - 321 стор. |
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admire Ambrose Philips assertions Aurora Leigh beauty better Browning Browning's charm Chaucer Coleridge Cowper Crabbe criticism cuckoo delight doth eclogues Edwin Morris English expression exquisite Faerie Queene fame fancy favourite feeling flocks flowers genius give green happy HARTLEY hath heart hills honour imagination Jeremy Taylor Johnson labour language Leigh Hunt Let me read lines living look Lycidas Milton mind nature Nature's never night noble o'er Paradise Lost passage passion pastoral perhaps pleasure poem poet poet's poetical Pope popular praise prose prove remember rural poetry rustic scarcely scene Sche shade Shakspeare shepherd sing sometimes song sorrow Southey Spenser spirit STANLEY stream style sublime summer sweet TALBOT Task taste tender Tennyson thee Thomson thou thought true truth uncon verse volume wild wise woods words Wordsworth write
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Сторінка 233 - -I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest
Сторінка 264 - Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. " Will no one tell me what she sings ? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago : 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 105 - Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. " The stars of midnight shall be dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place, Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty, born of murmuring sound,
Сторінка 264 - the theme, the Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending ; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending ;— I listen'd motionless and still, And as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.
Сторінка 233 - for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense. For I have learn'd To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Сторінка 38 - by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who ; Tu-whit, to-who,—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel
Сторінка 277 - Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store 1 Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its
Сторінка 234 - sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart, by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can gi\v
Сторінка 38 - When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who ; Tu-whit, to-who,—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel
Сторінка 263 - her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Heaping 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. No sweeter voice was ever heard In spring-time from the