Autres éditions - Tout afficher
BATTLE OF WATERLOO beauty behold BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST beneath birds blest bliss born breast breath bright busy bee charm cheek cheerful child clouds cold COUNTRY CHURCHYARD dark dead death deep delight died dost doth dreams e'en EARL OF GLENCAIRN earth ELEGY WRITTEN fair fame flowers FRANCIS QUARLES glory gone grace grave green grief grove hast hath heard heart heaven hill Honour hour JOHN DRYDEN LAMENT Learn to labour light lilies lonely look loud Mary MASSACRE OF GLENCOE MILTON morn mother mother's love mournful ne'er never night numbers o'er poems poet praise pride round sigh silent sing Sir John Moore sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit stormy sweet tears thee thine THOMAS OTWAY thou art thou busy thought Twas voice waves weary weep wild WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE woods youth
Page 61 - 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.
Page 15 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 29 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 138 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 184 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Page 62 - 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: Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
Page 63 - 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 clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 135 - Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Page 25 - Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be ? " "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where are they ? I pray you tell...
Page 16 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.