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Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of Standard and Fugitive Poetry, Including a Few Translations Hitherto Unpublished |
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Results 6-10 of 84
Page 12
... breast ; While now through air reigns silence deep , O Sister dear , to aid thy rest . No clouds now intervene to hide From us thy beauty , planet fair ; No vapours dim are seen to glide Athwart the tranquil void of air . Now do the ...
... breast ; While now through air reigns silence deep , O Sister dear , to aid thy rest . No clouds now intervene to hide From us thy beauty , planet fair ; No vapours dim are seen to glide Athwart the tranquil void of air . Now do the ...
Page 17
... breast , The first faint dawn of tender care . There is a sigh➡so soft , so sweet , It breathes not from the lip of woe ; ' Tis heard where conscious lovers meet , Whilst yet untold young passion's glow . There is a sigh - short , deep ...
... breast , The first faint dawn of tender care . There is a sigh➡so soft , so sweet , It breathes not from the lip of woe ; ' Tis heard where conscious lovers meet , Whilst yet untold young passion's glow . There is a sigh - short , deep ...
Page 22
... ; Thine artless blooms , with dew impearl'd , Resemble mild Worth's blameless breast . When to Virtue's spotless lustre Friendship twines a votive wreath , O'er the fair selected cluster Thou thy perfume soft shalt 22 THE POETICAL 38.
... ; Thine artless blooms , with dew impearl'd , Resemble mild Worth's blameless breast . When to Virtue's spotless lustre Friendship twines a votive wreath , O'er the fair selected cluster Thou thy perfume soft shalt 22 THE POETICAL 38.
Page 23
... breast affords no happier cheer Than the rude blighting breeze you fly . Cold is the atmosphere of grief , When storms assail the barren breast : Go , then , poor exile , seek relief In bosoms where the heart has rest . Or fall upon the ...
... breast affords no happier cheer Than the rude blighting breeze you fly . Cold is the atmosphere of grief , When storms assail the barren breast : Go , then , poor exile , seek relief In bosoms where the heart has rest . Or fall upon the ...
Page 24
... breast , And lie there till we both shall cease To seek in vain for nature's rest . EXTRACT FROM SYMPATHY . PRATT . ONCE , and not far from where those seats are seen , Just where yon white huts peep the copse between , A damsel ...
... breast , And lie there till we both shall cease To seek in vain for nature's rest . EXTRACT FROM SYMPATHY . PRATT . ONCE , and not far from where those seats are seen , Just where yon white huts peep the copse between , A damsel ...
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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.