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Recollections of a Literary Life, Or, Books, Places, and People, Volume 2
Mary Russell Mitford
Affichage du livre entier - 1853
amongst answer appear bear beauty bright brother called charming Court dear death deep delight door English eyes face fair father fear feel flowers give Goodere grace green half hand happy head hear heard heart hill hope hour interest John kind known lady land leaves less letters light lived look Lord mind morning mother nature never night o'er once passed perhaps person poem poet poor praise rich round scene seems seen side sing song speak spirit story strange sure sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought took trees true truth turn verse voice volumes walls whole wild wind write young
Page 342 - STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring; for ornament is in discourse; and for ability is in the judgment and disposition of business...
Page 43 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Page 203 - Since There's No Help Since there's no help. come let us kiss and part: Nay. I have done: you get no more of me. And I am glad. yea. glad with all my heart. That thus so cleanly I myself can free: 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. Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath. When. his pulse failing. passion speechless lies. When faith is kneeling by his bed of death. And innocence...
Page 40 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower. Like a glowworm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view.
Page 40 - What thou art, we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Page 198 - The Western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she. The creeping tide came up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see; The blinding mist came down and hid the land; And never home came she.
Page 197 - Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Page 43 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Page 346 - ... our sage and serious poet Spenser, whom I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas, describing true temperance under the person of Guion, brings him in with his Palmer through the cave of Mammon, and the bower of earthly bliss, that he might see and know, and yet abstain.
Page 326 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head ; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach ; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.