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answer arms beauty called character child close comes compares criticizes Cyril dark daughter Dawson dead death doubt dream edition effect English Explain expression eyes face fair fall father follow give golden half hall hand head hear heard heart king knowledge Lady land laws less letter light literature living looked lost meaning mind morning mother moved Nature never night noble once passage poem poet poetry Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche reference Rhetoric rose says seemed sense shadow side song soul speak star stood suggested sweet tears Tennyson thee things thought thro till true truth turned voice Wallace whole wild wind woman women wood
Page 87 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 172 - ... broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Page 176 - For woman is not undevelopt man, But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet Love were slain : his dearest bond is this, 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...
Page 85 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 151 - The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man, That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body ; And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood...
Page 141 - Then they praised him, soft and low, Called him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe ; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face ; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears "Sweet my child, I live for thee.
Page 88 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 85 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 168 - Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white ; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. " Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. " Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me.
Page 171 - To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance thee down To find him in the valley ; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling watersmoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales...