The book of celebrated poems1854 - 448 |
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arms beauty beneath bless'd blood bloom bowers breast breath bright Casa Wappy charms cheerful cloud Colonsay Comus coursers Cumnor dark dead dear death deep Ditto dost doth dread e'en e'er earth fair fame father fear flowers gentle grace grave green grene grete GRONGAR HILL groves hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Hermit hill James Ferguson John Dyer lady lapwing light lonely look Lord LORD BRACKLEY loud lyre maid Mason Jackson mede morn muse ne'er never night nymph o'er peace Plaid pleasure poems poetry praise pride rise Robert Blair round sacred seem'd shade shine shore sight silence sing skies smile soft song soul sound spirit stream swain sweet swelling tears thee ther thine thou thought trees Twas vale voice wandering wave ween wild William Julius Mickle wind woods youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 355 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Strona 194 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Strona 341 - The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they : The look with which they looked on me Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high ; But oh ! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die. The moving Moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide : Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside...
Strona 42 - Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone.
Strona 164 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And Desolation saddens all thy green: One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
Strona 170 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Strona 354 - And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. 'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' The Hermit crossed his brow. 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say — What manner of man art thou?
Strona 165 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Strona 171 - 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; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules...
Strona 44 - Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.