Beautiful poetry, selected by the ed. of The Critic, Volume 6
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arms bear beauty beneath birds bloom blue breast breath bright brow cheek child clouds cold comes dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel flow flowers gaze gentle give gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills holy hope hour keep land leaves light lips live lonely look lost morning mother nature never night o'er once pale pass past play rest rise rose round shade shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars stream strong summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought tree voice waters wave wild wind wings young youth
Page 51 - The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus, ever fair and ever young: The jolly god in triumph comes ; Sound the trumpets ; beat the drums; Flush'd with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain ; Bacchus...
Page 344 - That never a hall such a galliard did grace: While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Page 53 - Now strike the golden lyre again! A louder yet, and yet a louder strain, Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark! the horrid sound Has raised up his head! As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge! revenge!
Page 51 - With flying fingers touched the lyre: The trembling notes ascend the sky And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove Who left his blissful seats above, Such is the power of mighty love ! A dragon's fiery form belied the god; Sublime on radiant spires he rode When he to fair Olympia...
Page 319 - Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe : Give us thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by thee. Immortal honor, endless fame, Attend the...
Page 363 - He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet; But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice...
Page 52 - Changed his hand and checked his pride. He chose a mournful muse Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen...
Page 31 - Sleepless ! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees ; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep ! by any stealth : So do not let me wear...
Page 347 - The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot Sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. That is the grasshopper's : he takes the lead In summer luxury — he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Page 362 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, . Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried — "La belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!" I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side.