Popular Poets of the Period: Being a Volume Containing Biographical & Critical Sketches of the Careers of Poets of Our Own Time and Country, Together with Choice Selections from Their WorksGriffith, Farran, Okeden, and Welsh, 1889 - 376 psl. |
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xiii psl.
... kind A ruined Tower with ivies green ... Ask why I love the roses fair A sparrow lighted chirping on a spray As through those portals our lost one went At noon I stand upon the height . At Worthing , an exile from Geraldine G .. Autumn ...
... kind A ruined Tower with ivies green ... Ask why I love the roses fair A sparrow lighted chirping on a spray As through those portals our lost one went At noon I stand upon the height . At Worthing , an exile from Geraldine G .. Autumn ...
xix psl.
... kind . And does it not behove some of our present day poets to remember intensity amid their anxiety for form ; and not to forget that form , important as it is , is not everything ? Doubtless the greatest poet is he who , like Tennyson ...
... kind . And does it not behove some of our present day poets to remember intensity amid their anxiety for form ; and not to forget that form , important as it is , is not everything ? Doubtless the greatest poet is he who , like Tennyson ...
17 psl.
... kind By the auld burnside- Like the hearts that wed I mind By the auld burnside ? Does the laughter , licht an ' gay , O ' the bairnies at their play , Yet ring sweetly down the brae , O , the laverock trill'd his sang A ' the sunny ...
... kind By the auld burnside- Like the hearts that wed I mind By the auld burnside ? Does the laughter , licht an ' gay , O ' the bairnies at their play , Yet ring sweetly down the brae , O , the laverock trill'd his sang A ' the sunny ...
49 psl.
... kind , who worked with their own hands , and in whose kitchen the birr of the spinning - wheel was seldom silent . Her mother was the descendant of a similar family among the " Borderers " on Tweedside . Mrs. Mayo's girlhood was spent ...
... kind , who worked with their own hands , and in whose kitchen the birr of the spinning - wheel was seldom silent . Her mother was the descendant of a similar family among the " Borderers " on Tweedside . Mrs. Mayo's girlhood was spent ...
50 psl.
... kind , For He knows that Life hides treasures For our empty hands to find . The heart that has lost its nearest Stands open to the air , And the lonely and the erring , And the orphan enter there . There are sick folk to be tended , And ...
... kind , For He knows that Life hides treasures For our empty hands to find . The heart that has lost its nearest Stands open to the air , And the lonely and the erring , And the orphan enter there . There are sick folk to be tended , And ...
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ALEXANDER H Andrew Lang auld burnside Ballads beautiful bird blue born breast breath bright captain's gig Charles Mackay charming Clement Scott Clink College critic dark dead dear death deep delight dramatic dream earth English eyes fair fancy father feel flowers genius gleam golden grace hand hast hath heart heaven hills King kiss land Lewis Morris light lips literary literature lives London Lord Lord Tennyson lover Lurlei lyric Magazine never night o'er once passed poems poet poetic poetry prose published rose round sestet shadow shine shore sing Sir Edwin Arnold skies sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul sound stars sweet tears Tennyson thee Theodore Watts thine thou thought touch Twas vers de société verse voice volume W. E. FORSTER waves wild WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT wind words writings young
Populiarios ištraukos
287 psl. - Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon ; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams ! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go ; And some through wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
285 psl. - Thy voice is on the rolling air ; I hear thee where the waters run ; Thou standest in the rising sun. And in the setting thou art fair.
288 psl. - O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
231 psl. - WHERE sunless rivers weep Their waves into the deep, She sleeps a charmed sleep : Awake her not. Led by a single star, She came from very far To seek where shadows are Her pleasant lot. She left the rosy morn, She left the fields of corn, For twilight cold and lorn And water springs. Through sleep, as through a veil She sees the sky look pale, And hears the nightingale That sadly sings. Rest, rest, a perfect rest Shed over brow and breast ; Her face is toward the west, The purple land. She cannot...
285 psl. - Until they won her; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is the maiden passion for a maid, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and amiable words And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
193 psl. - The air broke into a mist with bells, The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries. Had I said, "Good folk, mere noise repels "But give me your sun from yonder skies!" They had answered, "And afterward, what else?
222 psl. - Bring none of these ; but let me be, While all around in silence lies, Moved to the window near, and see Once more, before my dying eyes, Bathed in the sacred dews of morn The wide aerial landscape spread The world which was ere I was born, The world which lasts when I am dead...
286 psl. - Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words...
221 psl. - Mark'd thine outlandish garb, thy figure spare, Thy dark vague eyes, and soft abstracted air But, when they came from bathing, thou wert...
339 psl. - tis the lullaby Time is singing Hush, and heed not, for all things pass, Hush, ah, hush! and the Scythes are swinging Over the clover, over the grass ! Andrew Lang.