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beauty bells beneath bird blow blue breath bright brown clear clouds cold comes Company dark dead dear deep dream earth England English eyes face fair fall feet fields flowers France give gold golden gray green hand head hear heard heart heaven hills hold hour Italy John King land leaves light live London look Lord Mary Messrs morning mountains never night o'er once pass past peace personally play Poems rain rest rise river road Robert rocks rose round sail Saint shining ships silent sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit spring stand stars stone stream Street sweet thee things Thomas thou thought tower town trees turn voice walls watch waves wild wind wings wonder
Strona 94 - BEACH THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits ; — on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone ; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Strona 237 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Strona 14 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow!
Strona 95 - Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.
Strona 139 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light ; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Strona 82 - Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love — oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
Strona 114 - THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, — With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Strona 280 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.