The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language: Selected and Arranged with Notes |
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Results 6-10 of 40
Page 61
... land and ocean without rest : - They also serve who only stand and wait . J. Milton LXXII CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will ; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth ...
... land and ocean without rest : - They also serve who only stand and wait . J. Milton LXXII CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will ; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth ...
Page 62
... lands ; And having nothing , yet hath all . Sir H. Wotton LXXIII THE NOBLE NATURE It is not growing like a tree In bulk , doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak , three hundred year , To fall a log at last , dry , bald , and ...
... lands ; And having nothing , yet hath all . Sir H. Wotton LXXIII THE NOBLE NATURE It is not growing like a tree In bulk , doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak , three hundred year , To fall a log at last , dry , bald , and ...
Page 81
... land betwixt us both , Our faith and troth , Like separated souls , All time and space controls : Above the highest sphere we meet Unseen , unknown , and greet as Angels greet . So then we do anticipate Our after - fate , And are alive ...
... land betwixt us both , Our faith and troth , Like separated souls , All time and space controls : Above the highest sphere we meet Unseen , unknown , and greet as Angels greet . So then we do anticipate Our after - fate , And are alive ...
Page 93
... thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman , near at hand , Whistles o'er the furrow'd land , And the milkmaid singeth blithe , And the mower whets his scythe , And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in Second 93.
... thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman , near at hand , Whistles o'er the furrow'd land , And the milkmaid singeth blithe , And the mower whets his scythe , And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in Second 93.
Page 100
... , And yet far kinder than our own ? He lands us on a grassy stage , Safe from the storms , and prelate's rage : He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything , And sends the fowls to us in care On daily Book.
... , And yet far kinder than our own ? He lands us on a grassy stage , Safe from the storms , and prelate's rage : He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything , And sends the fowls to us in care On daily Book.
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Common terms and phrases
Arethuse art thou beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory golden green greenwood tree happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven hills John Anderson Kirconnell kiss ladies leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems Poetry Poets Rosaline rose round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 144 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Page 117 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Page 241 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee; Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
Page 58 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Page 143 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care : No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield...
Page 199 - ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, — The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?
Page 257 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Page 301 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Page 17 - In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self that seals up all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong. To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Page 240 - 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 : Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower : Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view.