Book of the Poets: The Modern Poets of the Nineteenth Century |
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arms beauty beneath blood born breast breath bright child close clouds cold comes dark dead death deep delight died dream earth face fair fall fear feel felt flowers gentle give gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour human Italy king lady land leaves light living look Lord mind morning mountain nature never night o'er once pale pass poem poet poetical poetry poor pride rest rich rose round seen side sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song soon soul sound spirit stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought tree turn Twas voice waves wild wind young youth
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Seite 109 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find...
Seite 403 - 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...
Seite 110 - We in thought will join your throng. Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May!
Seite 165 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Seite 110 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake To perish never ; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man, nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather.
Seite 299 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts — not so thou Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves
Seite 236 - YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze — Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Seite 104 - My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side.' ' How many are you, then,' said I, * If they two are in heaven ?' Quick was the little Maid's reply,
Seite 103 - 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?
Seite 163 - That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade, There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright, And that he knew it was a fiend...