Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 958 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 76
Page xx
... Faces 327 The Poet of To - day .. Lines Written in my own Album .. 327 To James Sheridan Knowles ... 327 Locker ... Face . Larcom , Lucy . The Rainy Day Hannah Binding Shoes .... 814 Rain in Summer . Sonnet : The Poets . Lathrop ...
... Faces 327 The Poet of To - day .. Lines Written in my own Album .. 327 To James Sheridan Knowles ... 327 Locker ... Face . Larcom , Lucy . The Rainy Day Hannah Binding Shoes .... 814 Rain in Summer . Sonnet : The Poets . Lathrop ...
Page 9
... face . With lullaby , then , wink awhile ; With lullaby your looks beguile ; Let no fair face or beauty bright Entice you eft ' with vain delight . And lullaby my wanton Will , Let Reason's rule now rein thy thought , Since all too late ...
... face . With lullaby , then , wink awhile ; With lullaby your looks beguile ; Let no fair face or beauty bright Entice you eft ' with vain delight . And lullaby my wanton Will , Let Reason's rule now rein thy thought , Since all too late ...
Page 11
... face , that seems more fair The more they on it stare ! But her sad eyes , still fastened on the ground , Are governéd with goodly modesty That suffers not one look to glance awry , Which may let in a little thought unsound . Why blush ...
... face , that seems more fair The more they on it stare ! But her sad eyes , still fastened on the ground , Are governéd with goodly modesty That suffers not one look to glance awry , Which may let in a little thought unsound . Why blush ...
Page 13
... face he did attaint , ' As when a cloud his beams doth overlay ; And silver Cynthia wexéd pale and faint , As when her face is stained with magic arts con- straint . No magic arts hereof had any might , Nor bloody words of bold ...
... face he did attaint , ' As when a cloud his beams doth overlay ; And silver Cynthia wexéd pale and faint , As when her face is stained with magic arts con- straint . No magic arts hereof had any might , Nor bloody words of bold ...
Page 22
... face , Where roses and white lilies blow ; A heavenly paradise is that place , Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; There cherries grow that none may buy Till cherry - ripe themselves do cry . Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient ...
... face , Where roses and white lilies blow ; A heavenly paradise is that place , Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; There cherries grow that none may buy Till cherry - ripe themselves do cry . Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient ...
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Other editions - View all
Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent No preview available - 2018 |
Common terms and phrases
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
Popular passages
Page 99 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Page 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 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.
Page 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Page 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Page 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Page 290 - 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 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Page 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Page 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.