Little Classics: Poems, lyrical

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Rossiter Johnson
J.R. Osgood, 1877

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65 psl. - new pleasures, Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim and daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide. Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some
68 psl. - self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heapt Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regained Eurydice. These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live. IL PENSEROSO. BY JOHN MILTON.
107 psl. - nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of Joy and Love. 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 forever from his eyes. Now, Lyeidas, the shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the
90 psl. - Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Forbade to wade through
106 psl. - your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky; So Lyeidas
69 psl. - train. But hail, thou goddess sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore, to our weaker view, O'erlaid with black, staid wisdom's hue,—. Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her
73 psl. - Or ushered with a shower still When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, Where the
139 psl. - Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And while he heaven and earth defied, Changed his hand, and cheeked his pride. He chose a mournful
91 psl. - Tor who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; For thee, who, mindful of the
121 psl. - each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three parts pain ! Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grndge the throe! For thence — a paradox Which comforts while it mocks — Shall

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