Pencilings and Sketches of the Poets: A Record of Memory and LoveM.T. Downing, 1867 - 379 Seiten |
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Seite 292
... Jeanie Morrison , it would have gained for him an immortality . He has been compared to Burns in his exqui site tenderness and pathos . Like him , he was at one time a violent partizan and an uncompromising politician ; but when years ...
... Jeanie Morrison , it would have gained for him an immortality . He has been compared to Burns in his exqui site tenderness and pathos . Like him , he was at one time a violent partizan and an uncompromising politician ; but when years ...
Seite 293
... Jeanie Morrison attain her perfection . If the reader will but have patience with the peculiar dialect , he will find himself amply repaid in its perusal : I've wandered east , I've wandered west , Through mony a weary way ; But never ...
... Jeanie Morrison attain her perfection . If the reader will but have patience with the peculiar dialect , he will find himself amply repaid in its perusal : I've wandered east , I've wandered west , Through mony a weary way ; But never ...
Seite 294
A Record of Memory and Love Margaret T. Downing. O dear , dear Jeanie Morrison , The thochts o ' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path , And blend my e'en wi ' tears ; They blind my e'en wi ' saut , saut tears , And sair ...
A Record of Memory and Love Margaret T. Downing. O dear , dear Jeanie Morrison , The thochts o ' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path , And blend my e'en wi ' tears ; They blind my e'en wi ' saut , saut tears , And sair ...
Seite 296
... Jeanie Morrison , Tears trinkled doun your cheek , Like dew - beads on a rose , yet nane Had ony power to speak ! That was a time , a blessed time , When 296 MOTHERWELL .
... Jeanie Morrison , Tears trinkled doun your cheek , Like dew - beads on a rose , yet nane Had ony power to speak ! That was a time , a blessed time , When 296 MOTHERWELL .
Seite 297
... Jeanie Morrison , Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi ' earliest thochts As ye hae been to me ? Oh ! tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine ; Oh ! say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi ' dreamings o ' lang syne ...
... Jeanie Morrison , Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi ' earliest thochts As ye hae been to me ? Oh ! tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine ; Oh ! say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi ' dreamings o ' lang syne ...
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Pencilings and Sketches of the Poets: A record of memory and love Margaret T. Downing Eingeschränkte Leseprobe - 2022 |
Pencilings and Sketches of the Poets: A record of memory and love Margaret T. Downing Eingeschränkte Leseprobe - 2022 |
Pencilings and Sketches of the Poets; a Record of Memory and Love Margaret T Downing Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2023 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Agnes ALFRED TENNYSON angel angel band Ave Maria baby smile Beadsman beautiful beloved sleep bless breast breath bright brow charm cheek child crown dark darling dead dear death deep dream dreary earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Endymion Enoch Arden eyes face fair fancy father fear feel gaze genius gentle giveth His beloved goblet golden Goldsmith grace hand happy hath head hear heart Heaven holy hope hour Johnson Keats king knee Limours lips lonely look Lord Madeline memory merry mind morn mother myrrh never night noble o'er OLIVER GOLDSMITH pale poem poet Porphyro pray prayer rest ROBERT BURNS round SAMUEL JOHNSON says Schiller shadows shine silent smile soft song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears tell tender thee Theodore Tilton thine thou hast thought Thro tion tones Walter Scott wandering weary wild words young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 242 - The blisses of her dream so pure and deep. At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. xxxv. "Ah, Porphyro!
Seite 221 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy ? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven : We know her woof, her texture ; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Seite 138 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap: More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated, overhead, He giveth His beloved — sleep.
Seite 227 - St Agnes' 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 : Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith...
Seite 238 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint...
Seite 252 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure...
Seite 268 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Seite 233 - O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom Which none but secret sisterhood may see, When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously." XIV. "St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve — Yet men will murder upon holy days.
Seite 329 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Seite 240 - A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet : — O for some drowsy Morphean amulet ! The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion, The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet, Affray his ears, though but in dying tone : — The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.