Festival of Song: A Series of Evenings with the Poets |
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Page 24
... dear Is the immediate jewel of their souls : my lord , Who steals my purse steals trash ; ' tis something , nothing ; ' Twas mine , ' tis his , and has been slave to thousands : But he that filches from me my good name , Robs me of that ...
... dear Is the immediate jewel of their souls : my lord , Who steals my purse steals trash ; ' tis something , nothing ; ' Twas mine , ' tis his , and has been slave to thousands : But he that filches from me my good name , Robs me of that ...
Page 39
... dear , so much , loved I not honour more . His fine lines written during his incarceration , To Althea , com- mence : - When Love , with unconfinèd wings , hovers within my gates , And my divine Althea brings to whisper at my grates ...
... dear , so much , loved I not honour more . His fine lines written during his incarceration , To Althea , com- mence : - When Love , with unconfinèd wings , hovers within my gates , And my divine Althea brings to whisper at my grates ...
Page 48
... Dear loss ! since thy untimely fate , My task hath been to meditate On thee , on thee ; thou art the book , The library whereon I look , Though almost blind ; for thee ( loved clay ) I languish out , not live , the day , Using no other ...
... Dear loss ! since thy untimely fate , My task hath been to meditate On thee , on thee ; thou art the book , The library whereon I look , Though almost blind ; for thee ( loved clay ) I languish out , not live , the day , Using no other ...
Page 56
... dear , Νο part of them can have now with me here ? Hazlitt thought Drummond's sonnets approached as near almost as any others to the perfection of this kind of writing . Address to the Nightingale : -- Here is his Sweet bird ! that sing ...
... dear , Νο part of them can have now with me here ? Hazlitt thought Drummond's sonnets approached as near almost as any others to the perfection of this kind of writing . Address to the Nightingale : -- Here is his Sweet bird ! that sing ...
Page 57
... dear gifts on thee He did not spare , A stain to human sense in sin that lowers . What soul can be so sick , which by thy songs ( Attired in sweetness ) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils , spites , and wrongs , And ...
... dear gifts on thee He did not spare , A stain to human sense in sin that lowers . What soul can be so sick , which by thy songs ( Attired in sweetness ) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils , spites , and wrongs , And ...
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Common terms and phrases
angels Annabel Lee Babie Bell bard beautiful bells beneath bird bless blest bloom bower breast breath bright brow Charles Lamb charm child clouds dark dead dear death deep delight Dismal Swamp doth dream earth ELIZA COOK eyes Faerie Queene fair fear flowers gentle glory glow golden grace grave green happy hath hear heart heaven hour kiss leaves light lines live lonely look lyre lyric melody merry merry heart Mighty winds mind moon morning muse Nature's never night noble numbers o'er old oaken bucket passage pleasure poem poet poetry rill ROBERT LOWELL rose round shade shine sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanzas stars stream summer sweet Tabard tears tell thee thine thought toil trees Twas verse voice wave weary weep wild wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 69 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descant sung...
Page 68 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 39 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 276 - Like a poet hidden, In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Page 21 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of?
Page 274 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 135 - He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 31 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments : love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be taken.
Page 63 - The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving : No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Page 220 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.