Wordsworth to DobellThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1883 |
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Сторінка 2
... verse ; not like Homer or Shake- speare or Milton , standing in impersonal distance from their wonderful creations ; not like Shelley , full of philosophic ideas but incapable from his wild nature of philosophic steadiness of thought ...
... verse ; not like Homer or Shake- speare or Milton , standing in impersonal distance from their wonderful creations ; not like Shelley , full of philosophic ideas but incapable from his wild nature of philosophic steadiness of thought ...
Сторінка 3
... verse Of this great consummation : —and , by words Which speak of nothing more than what we are , Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep Of Death , and win the vacant and the vain To noble raptures ; while my voice proclaims How ...
... verse Of this great consummation : —and , by words Which speak of nothing more than what we are , Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep Of Death , and win the vacant and the vain To noble raptures ; while my voice proclaims How ...
Сторінка 9
... Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . ' He claimed for Lucy Gray , for the ' miserable mother by the Thorn , ' for the desolate maniac nursing her infant , the same pity which we give to Lear and Cordelia or to ' the dark ...
... Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . ' He claimed for Lucy Gray , for the ' miserable mother by the Thorn , ' for the desolate maniac nursing her infant , the same pity which we give to Lear and Cordelia or to ' the dark ...
Сторінка 46
... Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . Alas ! where'er the current tends , Regret pursues and with it blends , — Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By Skiddaw seen , — Neighbours we were , and loving friends We might have ...
... Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . Alas ! where'er the current tends , Regret pursues and with it blends , — Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By Skiddaw seen , — Neighbours we were , and loving friends We might have ...
Сторінка 89
... verse ' ; and it was well worthy to attract attention and admiration at the time when it appeared ; for at that time poetry , with few exceptions , was to be distinguished from prose by versification and little else . Pleasures of ...
... verse ' ; and it was well worthy to attract attention and admiration at the time when it appeared ; for at that time poetry , with few exceptions , was to be distinguished from prose by versification and little else . Pleasures of ...
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ballads beauty beneath Beppo breast breath bright Brignall brow Byron Canto Charles Lamb Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight Don Juan doth dream earth EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë English eyes face fair fame fear feel flowers friends gaze genius gentle Giaour grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath heard heart heaven hill hope hour human Keats lady lake Leigh Hunt light live lone look mind moon mountains nature ne'er never night o'er once PARISINA passion poems poet poetic poetry round Samian wine scene shade Shelley shore silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought trees Twas verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 280 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll [ Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 363 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given. The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ! Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Сторінка 405 - Fade, far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Сторінка 411 - 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.
Сторінка 278 - 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.
Сторінка 281 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed, — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime, — The image of Eternity, — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Сторінка 331 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind ! Be through my lips to unawakened earth...
Сторінка 407 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth...
Сторінка 407 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod.