The Poetical Common-place Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of Standard and Fugitive Poetry, Including a Few Translations Hitherto Unpublished |
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Page 6
... lov'd , -and he died too ; - O ! why was affection , which death could out - last , A more lengthen'd enjoyment denied to ? But here he slumbers ! and many there are Who love that lone tomb , and revere it ; And one far off , who , like ...
... lov'd , -and he died too ; - O ! why was affection , which death could out - last , A more lengthen'd enjoyment denied to ? But here he slumbers ! and many there are Who love that lone tomb , and revere it ; And one far off , who , like ...
Page 28
... lov'd , With the dark tress that veil'd it . When I sat Beneath her eye , I felt its splendour on me Like a bright spell . ' Tis not the diamond's ray , Nor vesper star - light , nor aught beautiful In this ascending sun , or in this ...
... lov'd , With the dark tress that veil'd it . When I sat Beneath her eye , I felt its splendour on me Like a bright spell . ' Tis not the diamond's ray , Nor vesper star - light , nor aught beautiful In this ascending sun , or in this ...
Page 48
... lov'd ones reply to his call . A father bends o'er him with looks of delight ; His cheek is bedew'd with a mother's warm tear ; And the lips of the boy in a love - kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear . The ...
... lov'd ones reply to his call . A father bends o'er him with looks of delight ; His cheek is bedew'd with a mother's warm tear ; And the lips of the boy in a love - kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear . The ...
Page 54
... lov'd one's aching pillow , Or weep some darling soul who found A grave beneath the billow ; Or , like a widow'd matron , twine The cypress and the jessamine , And strew the lily in its bloom Round the cold 54 THE POETICAL.
... lov'd one's aching pillow , Or weep some darling soul who found A grave beneath the billow ; Or , like a widow'd matron , twine The cypress and the jessamine , And strew the lily in its bloom Round the cold 54 THE POETICAL.
Page 74
... lov'd , with ling'ring pace , Where high the green hill lifts its head , To rove at vernal dawn , and trace The new - born glories as they spread . ' Twas when for me the hamlet smil'd Beneath the waving green - wood tree ; When ...
... lov'd , with ling'ring pace , Where high the green hill lifts its head , To rove at vernal dawn , and trace The new - born glories as they spread . ' Twas when for me the hamlet smil'd Beneath the waving green - wood tree ; When ...
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Other editions - View all
The Poetical Commonplace Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of ... C. W. C. No preview available - 2009 |
The Poetical Commonplace Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of ... C. W. C. No preview available - 2009 |
Common terms and phrases
admiring bands ANONYMOUS art thou beam beauty beneath billows black crows blast blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath breeze bright charm cheek cherub clouds cold dark dark wave dead dear death delight dream earth ev'ning ev'ry fair fate Fingal flowers fond Gelert gleam gloom glory glow grave green grief grove hail hast hath hear heart Heav'n HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour kiss of Morn light lips lonely LORD BYRON lov'd lyre maid moon morn mountain mourn Muse ne'er night o'er pale rapture rill rose round scene seem'd shade sigh silent sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul sound star Star of Bethlehem storm strain stream summer sweet swell tear tell tempest thee thine thou thought tomb tree trembling Twas vale voice wake wander wave weep wild wind wing woods youth
Popular passages
Page 53 - 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.
Page 187 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 270 - When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known...
Page 247 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee...
Page 235 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out...
Page 304 - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
Page 189 - If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear of Death...
Page 229 - Can I forget the dismal night, that gave My soul's best part for ever to the grave! How silent did his old companions tread, By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead, Through breathing statues, then unheeded things, Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings!
Page 85 - Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; But, alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more ! Oh cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace — where no perils can chase me?
Page 4 - Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.