EssaysMacmillan, 1896 - 312 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 8–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 97
... Wordsworth in 1815 , he says , " Since I saw you , I have had a treat in the reading way , which comes not every day , the Latin poems of Vincent Bourne , G which were quite new to me . What a heart Vincent Bourne 97.
... Wordsworth in 1815 , he says , " Since I saw you , I have had a treat in the reading way , which comes not every day , the Latin poems of Vincent Bourne , G which were quite new to me . What a heart Vincent Bourne 97.
Էջ 130
... Wordsworth's favourite prospects in the lakes when Wordsworth was a dumb baby ; he gazed upon Scotland and the Alps with a reverent awe . It was a time when writers about Nature's loveliness were accustomed to describe her with their ...
... Wordsworth's favourite prospects in the lakes when Wordsworth was a dumb baby ; he gazed upon Scotland and the Alps with a reverent awe . It was a time when writers about Nature's loveliness were accustomed to describe her with their ...
Էջ 157
... Wordsworth thought so characteristic of the true poet , the power of rendering remembered emo- tion . Blake seems to have had none of that ; the mood flashed without his control , the words flowed , and good or bad there was no mending ...
... Wordsworth thought so characteristic of the true poet , the power of rendering remembered emo- tion . Blake seems to have had none of that ; the mood flashed without his control , the words flowed , and good or bad there was no mending ...
Էջ 183
... Wordsworth had none , and he wallowed in bathos . The sense of humour is merely negative in a poet ; it does not give a poet sublimity , but it rescues him from puerility and absurdity . And so into both of these faults Keble not ...
... Wordsworth had none , and he wallowed in bathos . The sense of humour is merely negative in a poet ; it does not give a poet sublimity , but it rescues him from puerility and absurdity . And so into both of these faults Keble not ...
Էջ 186
... Wordsworth , who read it with great admiration , say of it , " It is very good - so good that , if it were mine , I should write it all over again . " The metrical schemes are often complicated and unsatisfactory . Many of the poems are ...
... Wordsworth , who read it with great admiration , say of it , " It is very good - so good that , if it were mine , I should write it all over again . " The metrical schemes are often complicated and unsatisfactory . Many of the poems are ...
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Common terms and phrases
A. C. BENSON admiration Andrew Marvell artistic Aurora Leigh austere beauty Ben Jonson Blake Blake's Browning Browning's called Cambridge character characteristic charm Christina Rossetti Church Cowper criticism D. G. Rossetti death delicate delight divine Earles English Eton exquisite eyes fact feeling Felpham genius give Gosse Gosse's Gray Gray's Hales hand heart Henry Henry Bradshaw Henry Vaughan Horace Walpole human humour instance instinct Keble Keble's kind Latin letter lines literary literature lived Lord Marvell Marvell's melancholy Milton mind Miss Rossetti mood nature ness never night Ovid passed passionate perhaps Plato poems poet poetical poetry pure quaint reader religious rhymes scholar seems sense simplicity solemn song Songs of Experience sonnets soul speak spirit stanza strange sweet taste thing thought tion touch true turn utterance verse Vincent Bourne words Wordsworth writing written wrote
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Էջ 277 - Does the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place ? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face ? You cannot miss that inn.
Էջ 212 - OH, TO BE in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England - now...
Էջ 196 - There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of the everlasting chime ; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
Էջ 104 - You think no doubt he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to fall ; No not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at all.
Էջ 169 - Felpham is a sweet place for study, because it is more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden gates : her windows are not obstructed by vapours ; voices of celestial inhabitants are more distinctly heard and their forms more distinctly seen ; and my cottage is also a shadow of their houses.
Էջ 103 - THERE is a bird, who by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow; A great frequenter of the church, Where bishoplike he finds a perch, And dormitory too. Above the steeple shines a plate, That turns and turns, to indicate From what point blows the weather. Look up— your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds— that pleases him, He chooses it the rather.
Էջ 75 - Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Էջ 281 - In the bleak mid-winter Long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away When He comes to reign: In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.
Էջ 274 - BIRTHDAY. My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a watered shoot ; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit ; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea ; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.
Էջ 287 - Her pleasant lot. She left the rosy morn, She left the fields of corn, For twilight cold and lorn And water springs. Through sleep, as through a veil, She sees the sky look pale, And hears the nightingale That sadly sings. Rest, rest, a perfect rest Shed over brow and breast; Her face is toward the west, The purple land. She cannot see the grain Ripening on hill and plain ; She cannot feel the rain Upon her hand. Rest, rest, for evermore Upon a mossy shore ; Rest, rest at the heart's core Till time...