English Sonnets by Poets of the PastSamuel Waddington G. Bell and Sons, 1888 - 238 страници |
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Страница 45
... murmur , soon replies , " God doth not need Either man's works or his own gifts . Who best Bear his mild yoke , they serve him best . His state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed , And post o'er land and ocean without rest ...
... murmur , soon replies , " God doth not need Either man's works or his own gifts . Who best Bear his mild yoke , they serve him best . His state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed , And post o'er land and ocean without rest ...
Страница 60
... murmurs soothed his pensive ear , And still the poet - consecrates the stream . Beneath the oak and birch that fringe thy side , The first - born violets of the year shall spring ; And in thy hazels , bending o'er the tide , The ...
... murmurs soothed his pensive ear , And still the poet - consecrates the stream . Beneath the oak and birch that fringe thy side , The first - born violets of the year shall spring ; And in thy hazels , bending o'er the tide , The ...
Страница 70
... murmur at his wrong ! Yet when their last late evening shall decline , Their evening cheerful , though their day distress'd , A Hope perhaps more heavenly - bright than thine , A Grace by thee unsought , and unpossess'd , A Faith more ...
... murmur at his wrong ! Yet when their last late evening shall decline , Their evening cheerful , though their day distress'd , A Hope perhaps more heavenly - bright than thine , A Grace by thee unsought , and unpossess'd , A Faith more ...
Страница 73
... murmurs heard by thee . Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft : Then cleave , O cleave , to that which still is left ; For , high - souled Maid , what sorrow would it be That Mountain floods should thunder as before , And Ocean ...
... murmurs heard by thee . Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft : Then cleave , O cleave , to that which still is left ; For , high - souled Maid , what sorrow would it be That Mountain floods should thunder as before , And Ocean ...
Страница 77
... murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth , the prison unto which we doom Ourselves , no prison is : and hence for me , In sundry moods , ' twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground ; Pleased if some Souls ...
... murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth , the prison unto which we doom Ourselves , no prison is : and hence for me , In sundry moods , ' twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground ; Pleased if some Souls ...
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beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON bird bowers breath bright brow CHARLES Strong CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER cheer clouds composition dark dear death deep delight didst doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ENGLISH SONNETS eternal eyes fade fair favour fear flowers gentle gleam gloom glorious glory golden grace green grief happy HARTLEY Coleridge hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly honour hope JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON life's light lonely look Lord love thee Love's mighty mind morn mourn murmur Muse never night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poems poet praise round SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirits Spring star streams summer sweet tears thine things THOMAS THOMAS HOOD thou art thought tomb unto verse voice waves weep wild WILLIAM DRUMMOND WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing youth
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Страница 187 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Страница 16 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
Страница 17 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses...
Страница 83 - Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies ; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish ; — be it so ! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour ; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Страница 24 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Страница 40 - I write of youth, of love, and have access By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness ; I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece, Of balm, of oil, of spice, and amber-greece ; I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I write How roses first came red, and lilies white.
Страница 121 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Страница 12 - Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Страница 18 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,— As, to behold Desert a beggar born, And needy Nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest Faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded Honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden Virtue rudely strumpeted, And right Perfection wrongfully disgraced, And Strength by limping sway disabled, And Art made tongue-tied by Authority...
Страница 49 - LAWRENCE ! of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining ? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.