Pearls from the poets: specimens selected, with biogr. notes, by H.W. DulckenHenry William Dulcken 1860 |
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Сторінка 44
... lonely being once , But now I have a friend . my care ! BAYLEY . [ THOMAS HAYNES BAYLEY ( born 1797 , died 1839 ) has not produced any poem of sufficient merit to entitle him to a position among our great poets ; but many of his ...
... lonely being once , But now I have a friend . my care ! BAYLEY . [ THOMAS HAYNES BAYLEY ( born 1797 , died 1839 ) has not produced any poem of sufficient merit to entitle him to a position among our great poets ; but many of his ...
Сторінка 54
... lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams , and heaven is overflow'd . What thou art , we know not ; What is most like thee ; From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see , As from thy presence showers a rain of melody ...
... lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams , and heaven is overflow'd . What thou art , we know not ; What is most like thee ; From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see , As from thy presence showers a rain of melody ...
Сторінка 60
... lonely mountain tops , Such intercourse was his ; and in this sort Was his existence oftentimes possessed . O , then , how beautiful , how bright appeared The written promise ! He had early learned To reverence the Volume , which ...
... lonely mountain tops , Such intercourse was his ; and in this sort Was his existence oftentimes possessed . O , then , how beautiful , how bright appeared The written promise ! He had early learned To reverence the Volume , which ...
Сторінка 65
... lonely tower , Exploring Plato , to unfold What worlds , or what vast regions , hold Th ' immortal mind that had forsook Her mansion in this fleshy nook , [ JOHN MILTON was born in London , in 1608 , and died in 1674. His magnificent ...
... lonely tower , Exploring Plato , to unfold What worlds , or what vast regions , hold Th ' immortal mind that had forsook Her mansion in this fleshy nook , [ JOHN MILTON was born in London , in 1608 , and died in 1674. His magnificent ...
Сторінка 82
... lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow . Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone , And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck , if they let him ...
... lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow . Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone , And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck , if they let him ...
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ALEXANDER POPE battle BATTLE OF WATERLOO beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON Blest born bower breath bright Cam'rons CHARLES LAMB charm cheek cheerful child churchway clouds cold COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD dark dead death deep died dost doth e'en earth EDGAR ALLAN POE ELEGY WRITTEN Elizabethan era EPICEDIUM eyes fair fame fire flowers genius gilded lilies glory grace grave green hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Honour hour light lonely look loud MILTON moon morn mother mother's love mouldering mournful ne'er never night numbers o'er old familiar faces poems poet praise pride reign round sigh silent sing SIR JOHN MOORE Skiddaw sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit star stormy winds Sweet Mary tears thee THOMAS CAMPBELL THOMAS OTWAY thou art thou busy thought tower Twas voice waves weary weep wild winds do blow woods youth
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Сторінка 55 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower...
Сторінка 137 - 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'er-brimmed their clammy cells — Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Сторінка 14 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Сторінка 156 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
Сторінка 27 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Сторінка 115 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Сторінка 138 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; 'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?' I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly: thousands...
Сторінка 22 - She had a rustic, woodlai.d air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Сторінка 121 - WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones ? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Сторінка 56 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.