The Works of John Ruskin: Modern painters

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G. Allen, 1903
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Page 74 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 131 - Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on...
Page 257 - Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?
Page 149 - One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Page 206 - On every corse there stood. This seraph-band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart No voice; but oh!
Page 296 - Or mosque of eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lacked they many a banner fair; For, from their shivered brows displayed. Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen, The briar-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west- wind's summer sighs.
Page 175 - ... unwithered cheek, Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white, And head that droops because the soul is meek, Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare ; That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb From desolation toward the genial prime ; Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air, And filling more and more with crystal light As pensive Evening deepens into night.
Page 295 - I see thee glittering from afar : And then thou art a pretty star Not quite so fair as many are In heaven above thee ! Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Self-poised in air, thou seem'st to rest ; May peace come never to his nest Who shall reprove thee...
Page 227 - Gently o'er the accustomed oak. Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among I woo, to hear thy even-song; And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green. To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon. Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Page xxxi - Yea, and certain women, also of our company made us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; and when they found not his body, they came saying that they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. And certain of them which were with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had said: but him they saw not.

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