Odes, Lyrics and SonnetsClarendon Press, 1916 - 152 pagina's |
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Agnes autumn Bacchus Baiae beautiful BELLE DAME birds brother George Brown budding Chapman's Homer Charles Cowden Clarke cloud DAME SANS MERCI dark death delight dost borrow doth drear-nighted December earth Elgin marbles Elizabethan Endymion Eve of St eyes fair Fancy flowers forest frost goddess GRECIAN URN Greek green happy Haydon hear heaven Honour Hunt's Hymn to Pan Hyperion inspired John Hamilton Reynolds John Keats Keats wrote Keats's knew Lamia laugh leave Leigh Hunt letter lines live look maid Mermaid Tavern merry Milton moon morn never Nightingale numbers Ode on Melancholy ODE TO PSYCHE ODE TO SORROW pale poem poet poetic poetry Proserpine published in 1848 rhyme Robin Hood satyr Shakespeare Shakespearian Shelley shepherds sing sleep song sonnet SONNET 14 souls Spenser spirit stanza sweet thee thine thou thought torment trees wild wine wings Wordsworth write
Populaire passages
Pagina 115 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy : for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is...
Pagina 70 - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu...
Pagina 111 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Pagina 130 - Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was ! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold...
Pagina 89 - THE poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead ; That is the Grasshopper's — he takes the lead In summer luxury, — he has never done With his delights; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Pagina 67 - Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store ? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor...
Pagina 51 - No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming. 0 brightest! though too late for antique vows, Too, too late for the fond believing lyre, When holy were the haunted forest boughs, Holy the air, the water and the fire...
Pagina 68 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Pagina 33 - And as I sat, over the light blue hills There came a noise of revellers: the rills Into the wide stream came of purple hue — 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills From kissing cymbals made a merry din — 'Twas Bacchus and his kin! Like to a moving vintage down they came, Crown'd with green leaves, and faces all on flame; All madly dancing through the pleasant valley, To scare thee, Melancholy!
Pagina 92 - WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charact'ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance...