The English Poets, 4 tomasThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1894 |
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2 psl.
... happy happier ; to teach the young and the gracious of every age to see , to think , and feel , and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous , ' - this is his own account of the purpose of his poetry . ( Letter to Lady ...
... happy happier ; to teach the young and the gracious of every age to see , to think , and feel , and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous , ' - this is his own account of the purpose of his poetry . ( Letter to Lady ...
11 psl.
... happy in his exposition of them , were in accordance with his general idea of poetry . ' I have at all times , ' he says , ' endea- voured to look steadily at my subject . ' Where he succeeded - and no man can always in thought and ...
... happy in his exposition of them , were in accordance with his general idea of poetry . ' I have at all times , ' he says , ' endea- voured to look steadily at my subject . ' Where he succeeded - and no man can always in thought and ...
29 psl.
... happy dell . ' Thus Nature spake - The work was done- How soon my Lucy's race was run ! She died , and left to me This heath , this calm , and quiet scene ; The memory of what has been , And never more will be . ( 1799- ) 3 . A slumber ...
... happy dell . ' Thus Nature spake - The work was done- How soon my Lucy's race was run ! She died , and left to me This heath , this calm , and quiet scene ; The memory of what has been , And never more will be . ( 1799- ) 3 . A slumber ...
31 psl.
... happy as a wave That dances on the sea . There came from me a sigh of pain Which I could ill confine ; I looked at her , and looked again : And did not wish her mine ! ' Matthew is in his grave , yet now , Methinks , I see him stand ...
... happy as a wave That dances on the sea . There came from me a sigh of pain Which I could ill confine ; I looked at her , and looked again : And did not wish her mine ! ' Matthew is in his grave , yet now , Methinks , I see him stand ...
33 psl.
... happy youth , and their old age Is beautiful and free : But we are pressed by heavy laws ; And often , glad no more , We wear a face of joy , because We have been glad of yore . If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth ...
... happy youth , and their old age Is beautiful and free : But we are pressed by heavy laws ; And often , glad no more , We wear a face of joy , because We have been glad of yore . If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth ...
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ballads beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright Byron Camelot charm cloud DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Emily Brontë English Excalibur eyes face fair fame fear feel flowers friends gaze Goethe grace grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour human Iacchus Keats King Arthur Lady Lady of Shalott light live lonely look Love's lyric Matthew Arnold mind moon morn mountains nature never night o'er once Oxus passion poems poet poetic poetry rose round Rustum Samian wine Seistan shadow Shalott shore silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro trees verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
Populiarios ištraukos
19 psl. - Is lightened: that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
284 psl. - 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...
375 psl. - WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With...
324 psl. - 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.
285 psl. - Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 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;...
83 psl. - 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.
324 psl. - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
376 psl. - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
260 psl. - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
740 psl. - Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.