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appearance beauty beneath born breath bright brow calm character child cloud cold dark dead dear death deep delight died dream early earth face fair fall fame fancy feel flowers genius gentle give gone grace grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Italy kind ladies land leaves light living lonely look Lord mind morning mother mountains nature never night o'er once pain passed poems Poet poetry poor produced published rest rose round sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought true turn voice waves wild wind woods writings young youth
Seite 47 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
Seite 8 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind ; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be, In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering, In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Seite 276 - The broken sheds look'd sad and strange : Unlifted was the clinking latch ; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, ' My life is dreary, He Cometh not...
Seite 127 - Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor...
Seite 11 - Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Seite 6 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind. And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years
Seite 4 - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong. The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; — No more shall grief of mine the season wrong...
Seite 109 - River where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Nethe'rby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For. a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Seite 8 - Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.