Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, Volume 1Carey and Hart, 1842 |
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Page 14
... seems it to be indeed , when we remember it , the time we first pulled the primroses on the sunny braes , wondering ... seem themselves like flowers in the blue fields of heaven ! —long , long , long ago , the time when we danced along ...
... seems it to be indeed , when we remember it , the time we first pulled the primroses on the sunny braes , wondering ... seem themselves like flowers in the blue fields of heaven ! —long , long , long ago , the time when we danced along ...
Page 15
... seems , now that it is gone , to have been of a thousand years . Is it gone ? Its skirts are yet hovering on the ... seem to succeed , and we behold the same threatening aspect of the hea vens that then quailed our beating hearts , and ...
... seems , now that it is gone , to have been of a thousand years . Is it gone ? Its skirts are yet hovering on the ... seem to succeed , and we behold the same threatening aspect of the hea vens that then quailed our beating hearts , and ...
Page 25
... seems tamed down - the lustre of the hues subside , and we can bear , without winking , or placing our fingers before our face , to keep a steady gaze on the bright confusion . Why , bookbinding has become a beautiful art ! Chance it ...
... seems tamed down - the lustre of the hues subside , and we can bear , without winking , or placing our fingers before our face , to keep a steady gaze on the bright confusion . Why , bookbinding has become a beautiful art ! Chance it ...
Page 30
... seem almost sullen - at least most melancholy , thou lookest , we say , like what thou indeed . art , a true descendant of now beatified spirits , who , in the old days of persecution , sang hymns of rejoicing when tied to the stake ...
... seem almost sullen - at least most melancholy , thou lookest , we say , like what thou indeed . art , a true descendant of now beatified spirits , who , in the old days of persecution , sang hymns of rejoicing when tied to the stake ...
Page 33
... seem to be either delicate light - blue satin or woven dew- to receive - what think ye ? Why , all the souvenirs— there they go , one after another - like so many birds of soft or bright plumage , not unwillingly dancing into the cage ...
... seem to be either delicate light - blue satin or woven dew- to receive - what think ye ? Why , all the souvenirs— there they go , one after another - like so many birds of soft or bright plumage , not unwillingly dancing into the cage ...
Common terms and phrases
admiration beautiful behold beneath Betty Foy birds Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine breath bright Caroline Caroline Bowles character Charlotte Smith cheerful child child is father Christopher North clouds cottage cottage ornée creature dark dear delight diction divine dream earth Edinburgh eyes fear feeling flowers genius gentle glory Gray hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hour human imagination language light living look Lord Byron Lyrical Ballads Milton mind morning mountains nature never night o'er once passage passion perhaps Peter Bell pleasant pleasure poem poet poet's poetic diction poetical poetry prose reader round Scotland seems shadows Shakspeare sight silent sing sleep smile solemn song sonnet soul sound speak spirit stars sweet taste tears thee thing thou thought tion touch trees true verse voice whole wonder words Wordsworth Wordsworthian writings young
Popular passages
Page 260 - Hence in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore...
Page 201 - ... the passions of men are incorporated with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature.
Page 308 - All things that love the sun are out of doors; The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with rain-drops; — on the moors The hare is running races in her mirth; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
Page 265 - Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind ; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be ; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering ; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Page 168 - With mazy error under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain...
Page 206 - For the human mind is capable of being excited without the application of gross and violent stimulants; and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this, and who does not further know, that one being is elevated above another, in proportion as he possesses this capability.
Page 308 - Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace: Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads: Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
Page 222 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 246 - Of mountain torrents ; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake. This boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.
Page 215 - ... must often, in liveliness and truth, fall short of that which is uttered by men in real life, under the actual pressure of those passions, certain shadows of which the poet thus produces, or feels to be produced, in himself.