A Poetry-book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics ; Selected and Arranged with Notes from the Works of the Modern English and American Poets, Dating from the Middle of the Eighteenth Century to the Present Time
Longman, Green, and Company, 1878 - 334 Seiten
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A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs and Sonnets, Odes and ...
Amelia Blanford Edwards
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BATTLE OF IVRY BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird blow boys come home breast breath BRIDGE OF SIGHS bright CLEON clouds cold cowslips Cusha daffodil dance dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes fair feet flowers glory gold green hair happy hath hear heard heart heaven hill ITYLUS kisses leaves light LINCOLNSHIRE living Lochinvar look Lord Lord Byron LOST HORIZON loud Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon morn murmurs never night o'er Ozymandias P. B. Shelley Persephone rain river rose round Samian wine shade shadow sigh silent sing sleep snow soft song sorrow soul sound stars STORM summer swallow sweet tears Tennyson thee thine thou art thought tree uppe voice warm waves weary wild wind wings Wordsworth Zeus
Seite 76 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Seite 140 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms, and winding mossy ways.
Seite 143 - TO A WATERFOWL. WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Seite 227 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Seite 218 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Seite 62 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Seite 140 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Seite 148 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, •An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Seite 256 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!