Primer of English Verse: Chiefly in Its Æsthetic & Organic Character

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Ginn, 1893 - Всего страниц: 232
 

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Стр. 177 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life ; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
Стр. 56 - I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus...
Стр. 214 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
Стр. 30 - With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glowworm's eyes...
Стр. 173 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Стр. 70 - There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass ; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes ; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Стр. 181 - And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Стр. 24 - tis said, when all were fired, Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatched her instruments of sound ; And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each (for madness ruled the hour) Would prove his own expressive power. First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid, And back recoiled, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made.
Стр. 180 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ?. Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough Winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Стр. 121 - Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold; Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seemed taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

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