The Poets of the Nineteenth CenturyRobert Aris Willmott Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 674 Seiten |
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... shade of her garden , and I see her sitting in it now with table and book ; constant to all her little heresies of taste ; reading the interminable Richardson every year , preferring wood - embers to the fairest moonbeams that ever ...
... shade of her garden , and I see her sitting in it now with table and book ; constant to all her little heresies of taste ; reading the interminable Richardson every year , preferring wood - embers to the fairest moonbeams that ever ...
Seite 9
... shade . Ah ! why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam , Remote from all congenial joy ? — O , take the Wanderer home ! " Thy shades , thy silence , now be mine 9 BEATTIE .
... shade . Ah ! why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam , Remote from all congenial joy ? — O , take the Wanderer home ! " Thy shades , thy silence , now be mine 9 BEATTIE .
Seite 10
Robert Aris Willmott. " Thy shades , thy silence , now be mine , Thy charms my only theme ; My haunt the hollow cliff , whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream ; — Whence the scar'd owl on pinions gray Breaks from the rustling boughs ...
Robert Aris Willmott. " Thy shades , thy silence , now be mine , Thy charms my only theme ; My haunt the hollow cliff , whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream ; — Whence the scar'd owl on pinions gray Breaks from the rustling boughs ...
Seite 12
... shades , like Adam after taste Of fruit proscribed , as to a refuge , fled . Thou wast a bauble once - a cup and ball , Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay Seeking her food , with ease might have purloin'd The auburn nut ...
... shades , like Adam after taste Of fruit proscribed , as to a refuge , fled . Thou wast a bauble once - a cup and ball , Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay Seeking her food , with ease might have purloin'd The auburn nut ...
Seite 30
... shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd - girls from eyes profane shall hide The gentle bird , who sings of pity best : For still thy voice shall soft affections move , And still be dear to sorrow , and to love ! I ONCE was happy , when ...
... shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd - girls from eyes profane shall hide The gentle bird , who sings of pity best : For still thy voice shall soft affections move , And still be dear to sorrow , and to love ! I ONCE was happy , when ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Amelia Opie beam beauty beneath bird blue bosom Bouillabaisse bower breast breath bright brow charms cheek cloud dark dead dear deep delight DEN BOSCH Ditto dread dream earth F. O. C. Darley face fair fear flowers friends gaze gentle gleam glory grave green hand hast hath heard heart heaven hill hour James Godwin Kilmeny LEWESDON HILL light living lonely look lov'd morning mother murmur never night o'er ocean old oaken bucket pride rocks rose round SACK OF BALTIMORE scene seem'd shade shadow shining shore sigh sight silent Sir Bedivere sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale VISIT FROM ST voice W. D. Howells wandering wave weep wild wind wings wood youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 138 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Seite 137 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Seite 155 - Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain. " She shall be sportive as the fawn, That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs; And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm Of mute insensate things.
Seite 467 - Wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — Vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — Sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.
Seite 368 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Seite 137 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Seite 301 - And now when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Seite 139 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leant against the armed man.
Seite 440 - Merlin sware that I should come again To rule once more— but let what will be be, I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, Which was my pride; for thou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, Holding the sword— and...
Seite 443 - The great brand Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea. So...