English & American Literature, Studies in Literary Criticism, Interpretation & History, Including Complete Masterpieces, in 10 Vol, Volume 4Smith & Reeve, 1903 |
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Page 11
... eyes , as one in- clined Before the sovran thought of his own mind , And very meek with inspirations proud , Takes here his rightful place as poet - priest By the high altar , singing prayer and prayer To the higher Heavens . " Portrait ...
... eyes , as one in- clined Before the sovran thought of his own mind , And very meek with inspirations proud , Takes here his rightful place as poet - priest By the high altar , singing prayer and prayer To the higher Heavens . " Portrait ...
Page 32
... eye Which is the bliss of solitude , And then my heart with pleasure fills , And dances with the daffodils . One is not to suppose that the poet deliberately decided that he would use iambic tetrameter verse , that the rhymes should ...
... eye Which is the bliss of solitude , And then my heart with pleasure fills , And dances with the daffodils . One is not to suppose that the poet deliberately decided that he would use iambic tetrameter verse , that the rhymes should ...
Page 33
... eye Which is the bliss of solitude . " That inward eye , that power of recollection , that marvelous gift which enables one to bring up vividly the scenes of the past and create again in the present the joys of other days ! The ...
... eye Which is the bliss of solitude . " That inward eye , that power of recollection , that marvelous gift which enables one to bring up vividly the scenes of the past and create again in the present the joys of other days ! The ...
Page 40
... above her race and wrote in the excess of her feeling straight from her indignant soul the hymn that caught the hearts of her country- men . Battle bymn of the Republic Mine eyes have seen the 40 Battle Hymn of the Republic-Howe.
... above her race and wrote in the excess of her feeling straight from her indignant soul the hymn that caught the hearts of her country- men . Battle bymn of the Republic Mine eyes have seen the 40 Battle Hymn of the Republic-Howe.
Page 41
Charles Herbert Sylvester. Battle bymn of the Republic Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible ...
Charles Herbert Sylvester. Battle bymn of the Republic Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible ...
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Common terms and phrases
Allen-a-Dale Annabel Lee auld lang syne beauty Beware bird blow Bob-o'-link breath bright cæsura Chambered Nautilus charm chee cloud dactylic daffodils dark Death of Wellington deep dost doth dream earth Edgar Allan Poe emotion eyes fate feel Flow gently flowers foot glory golden green hath hear heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hill honor hymns iambic iambic pentameter inspiration John Dryden JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER light live Longfellow Lord lyric melody meter moon never night o'er Ode to Duty pentameter poem poet poet's purple ROBERT BURNS sing Skylark smile song sorrow soul sound Spink spirit stanza stars stream Structure of Poetry sung sweet Afton syllable accented tears Tennyson thine things thou art thought Thro Trochee verse voice wandering weary weep Whittier WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIAM WORDSWORTH winds wings words
Popular passages
Page 63 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 94 - Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning « Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Page 177 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new. Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 128 - WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 62 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 97 - 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 ? ©de to a With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 69 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 26 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 52 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Page 179 - Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?