Thoughts on the PoetsC.S. Francis & Company, 1846 - 318 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 56–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 9
... Written at various times and in different moods , but always to give utterance to some particular thought or fantasy ... writing . † Often I began to write verses , but the pen , the hand and the mind were overcome at the first attempt ...
... Written at various times and in different moods , but always to give utterance to some particular thought or fantasy ... writing . † Often I began to write verses , but the pen , the hand and the mind were overcome at the first attempt ...
Էջ 32
... writing . The au- thors are comparatively few , who have awakened this feeling of personal interest and affection . It is cominon , indeed , for any writer of genius to inspire emotions of gratitude in the breasts of those susceptible ...
... writing . The au- thors are comparatively few , who have awakened this feeling of personal interest and affection . It is cominon , indeed , for any writer of genius to inspire emotions of gratitude in the breasts of those susceptible ...
Էջ 43
... writing for bread , and expecting every moment to be dunned for a milk - score , " but the biography of Gold- smith displays a greater variety of shifts resorted to for subsistence . He was successively an itinerant musician , a half ...
... writing for bread , and expecting every moment to be dunned for a milk - score , " but the biography of Gold- smith displays a greater variety of shifts resorted to for subsistence . He was successively an itinerant musician , a half ...
Էջ 44
... writing . If from his more finished works , we turn to those which were thrown off under the pressing exigencies of his life , it is astonishing what a contrast of subjects employed his pen . During his college days , he was constantly ...
... writing . If from his more finished works , we turn to those which were thrown off under the pressing exigencies of his life , it is astonishing what a contrast of subjects employed his pen . During his college days , he was constantly ...
Էջ 45
... written in the cemetery of the world , over what is dear to all humanity . There is a truth in the eloquent defence of agricultural pursuits and natural pastimes , that steals like a well - remembered strain over the heart immersed in ...
... written in the cemetery of the world , over what is dear to all humanity . There is a truth in the eloquent defence of agricultural pursuits and natural pastimes , that steals like a well - remembered strain over the heart immersed in ...
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admiration affections Alfieri amid appear ardent attractive awakened bard Barry Cornwall beauty blank verse bosom breathes Byron calm character charm cheer chiefly Crabbe death delight destiny devoted dreams earnest Edinburgh Review eloquence exalted excited experience eyes faith fame fancy feeling FELICIA HEMANS flowers genius genuine gifted glow Goldsmith grace happy heart heaven honour hope human idea imagination impression influence interest Italy JOANNA BAILLIE Keats labours language Leigh Hunt light literary literature lover lyre Madame de Stael ment mental Metastasio mind moral muse nature ness never Night Thoughts noble o'er passion pathy peculiar Petrarch pleasure poems poet poet's poetical poetry Queen Mab rare remarkable rhymes Rydal Mount scenes seems sense sensibility sentiment Shelley smile song soul spirit style sweet sympathy taste tender thee thing thou thought tion tone traits true truth verse Victor Alfieri woman Wordsworth writings young youth
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Էջ 235 - Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
Էջ 84 - Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
Էջ 223 - 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...
Էջ 60 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Էջ 250 - Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
Էջ 147 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Էջ 310 - To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
Էջ 278 - Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Էջ 98 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Էջ 192 - MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.