Our Poetical Favorites: A Selection from the Best Minor Poems of the English LanguageSheldon, 1871 - 449 pages |
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Page 12
... thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want . What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy ...
... thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want . What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields , or waves , or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy ...
Page 13
... Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream ; Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? We look before and after , And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught ; Our sweetest songs are ...
... Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream ; Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? We look before and after , And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught ; Our sweetest songs are ...
Page 25
... thing upward tends by necessity decreed , And the world's support depends on the shooting of a seed ! The summer's in her ark , and this sunny - pinioned day Is commissioned to remark whether Winter holds her sway ; Go back , thou dove ...
... thing upward tends by necessity decreed , And the world's support depends on the shooting of a seed ! The summer's in her ark , and this sunny - pinioned day Is commissioned to remark whether Winter holds her sway ; Go back , thou dove ...
Page 32
... things that blessed them of old . Ah , well may we call her , like thee , " the forsaken , " Her boldest are vanquished , her proudest are slaves ; And the harps of her minstrels , when gayest they waken , Have tones ' mid their mirth ...
... things that blessed them of old . Ah , well may we call her , like thee , " the forsaken , " Her boldest are vanquished , her proudest are slaves ; And the harps of her minstrels , when gayest they waken , Have tones ' mid their mirth ...
Page 40
... things , when in her raven hair ; Who paid her smiles with diadems , —and bought , at empire's cost , The love which he must lose to - day , —when all beside is lost ! X. She hath risen like a queen ! - —a pause — a moment's pause ...
... things , when in her raven hair ; Who paid her smiles with diadems , —and bought , at empire's cost , The love which he must lose to - day , —when all beside is lost ! X. She hath risen like a queen ! - —a pause — a moment's pause ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED TENNYSON angels beauty bells beneath bird bosom breast breath bright brow burning cheek cloud dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth evermore fair fear feel flowers forever gaze gleam glory golden grave green grief hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour JEAN INGELOW land life's light lips live LOCKSLEY HALL look Lord LORD BYRON Lycidas morn mountain never night o'er pale PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY prayer rest RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES Ring river rose round Samian wine shadow shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars storm sweet Sweetest eyes tears thee thine THOMAS HOOD THOMAS MOORE thou art thought Toggenburg toil voice wandering watch wave weary weep wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH winds wither
Popular passages
Page 57 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet do not grieve: She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 57 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit ? ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy...
Page 244 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Page 240 - The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
Page 13 - Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then — as I am listening now.
Page 263 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days: But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.
Page 245 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality : Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 7 - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 264 - Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe : Ah ! who hath reft...
Page 265 - Bring the rathe* primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe,* and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked* with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus* all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid^ lies.