Poets in the PulpitSampson, Law, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1880 - 291 стор. |
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Сторінка 14
... close city churchyard , is suffused beneath his gaze with deli- cate and poetic emotion . You may have noticed some of our own city grave - yards . Many of them , it is true , have now been turned into bright places for springing ...
... close city churchyard , is suffused beneath his gaze with deli- cate and poetic emotion . You may have noticed some of our own city grave - yards . Many of them , it is true , have now been turned into bright places for springing ...
Сторінка 47
... close , That principles are rained in blood , — Not yet the wise of heart would cease To hold his hope through shame and guilt ; But , with his hand against the hilt , Would pace the troubled land , like Peace . Not less though dogs of ...
... close , That principles are rained in blood , — Not yet the wise of heart would cease To hold his hope through shame and guilt ; But , with his hand against the hilt , Would pace the troubled land , like Peace . Not less though dogs of ...
Сторінка 63
... close . The whole poem is a most beautiful example of the convent piety of the Middle Ages ; and although it may to some extent be out of the range of our modern taste , yet it has the elements of truth in it , and is genuinely and ...
... close . The whole poem is a most beautiful example of the convent piety of the Middle Ages ; and although it may to some extent be out of the range of our modern taste , yet it has the elements of truth in it , and is genuinely and ...
Сторінка 93
... close friendship with Arthur Hallam , son of the great historian Henry Hallam . The Hallams at that time lived in Wimpole Street ; the historian and his son used to sit in this church of St. James , Westmoreland Street , in a pew just ...
... close friendship with Arthur Hallam , son of the great historian Henry Hallam . The Hallams at that time lived in Wimpole Street ; the historian and his son used to sit in this church of St. James , Westmoreland Street , in a pew just ...
Сторінка 94
... close , are like the calm deep sea water . noble port of peace , across a We go from a stormy restless ocean , and we come at last to the shining coast , to the fair haven of the soul , to the eternal rest . Although the " In Memoriam ...
... close , are like the calm deep sea water . noble port of peace , across a We go from a stormy restless ocean , and we come at last to the shining coast , to the fair haven of the soul , to the eternal rest . Although the " In Memoriam ...
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ALCOTT Arthur Hallam Author beautiful bright calm chapel Christ Christian Church of England cloth extra coloured Crown 8vo dark dead dear death deep demy 8vo despair Divine Edition English faith Fcap feeling French Full-page George Herbert German gilt edges glory glow grief hear heart heaven High Church History hope human hymn JULES GOUFFÉ Keble land light living Longfellow look Lord Low Church Lycidas Maps MARY COWDEN CLARKE Memoriam mind mood moral nature never night numerous Illustrations pain Palace of Art pass passion peace on earth pleasure poem poet poetic poetry political Portraits Prayer Book pulpit religion religious Ring Rose Library seems sense Simeon Stylites sing Small post 8vo song sorrow soul spirit Story sweet teaching Tennyson thee things thought tion truth unto vision voice vols Volumes whilst wild wind words Wordsworth
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Сторінка 248 - Earth has not anything to show more fair ! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples, lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Сторінка 21 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Сторінка 18 - There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Сторінка 274 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due...
Сторінка 16 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Сторінка 275 - There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Сторінка 237 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright ; The bridal of the earth and sky : The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Сторінка 269 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Сторінка 267 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest 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 rest.
Сторінка 251 - 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.