The Poetry of the SentimentsRufus Wilmot Griswold Leavitt & Allen, 1853 - 320 sider |
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Side 27
... soft and green , Within the column'd , vaulted scene . Sweet forest - odours have their birth From the clothed boughs and teeming earth ; Where pine - cones dropp'd , leaves piled and dead , Long tufts of grass , and stars of fern ...
... soft and green , Within the column'd , vaulted scene . Sweet forest - odours have their birth From the clothed boughs and teeming earth ; Where pine - cones dropp'd , leaves piled and dead , Long tufts of grass , and stars of fern ...
Side 35
... soft slumbering upon Some dreamy south wind : whether thou hast gone Upon the heaven now , or if thou art Within some floating cloud , and on its heart Pourest rich - tinted joy ; whether thy wheels Are touching on the sun - forsaken ...
... soft slumbering upon Some dreamy south wind : whether thou hast gone Upon the heaven now , or if thou art Within some floating cloud , and on its heart Pourest rich - tinted joy ; whether thy wheels Are touching on the sun - forsaken ...
Side 49
... Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods Which tuft her summit , and , like raven tresses , Waved their dark beauty round the tower of David . Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers , The embrasures of alabaster shine ; Hail ...
... Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods Which tuft her summit , and , like raven tresses , Waved their dark beauty round the tower of David . Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers , The embrasures of alabaster shine ; Hail ...
Side 63
... bowed , in speechless homage , at thy throne , And days unborn , and nations yet to be , Shall gaze , absorbed in ecstacy , on thee ! GREEN RIVER . BY BRYANT . WHEN breezes are soft ADMIRATION . 63 The Apollo Belvidere,
... bowed , in speechless homage , at thy throne , And days unborn , and nations yet to be , Shall gaze , absorbed in ecstacy , on thee ! GREEN RIVER . BY BRYANT . WHEN breezes are soft ADMIRATION . 63 The Apollo Belvidere,
Side 64
Rufus Wilmot Griswold. GREEN RIVER . BY BRYANT . WHEN breezes are soft and skies are fair , I steal an hour from study and care , And hie me away to the woodland scene , Where wanders the stream with waters of green ; As if the bright ...
Rufus Wilmot Griswold. GREEN RIVER . BY BRYANT . WHEN breezes are soft and skies are fair , I steal an hour from study and care , And hie me away to the woodland scene , Where wanders the stream with waters of green ; As if the bright ...
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adore art thou BARRY CORNWALL beams beauty behold beneath birds bless bliss bosom brave breast breath breeze bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB CHARLES SWAIN clouds dark deep delight divine dost doth dream e'en earth ELIZA COOK eternal fair fate fear feel fire flame flowers Friendship gaze glorious glory golden grace green happy hath hear heart heaven hill honour hour JOANNA BAILLIE King of Kings land Liberty light living lonely look Lord lyre morning mountain muse nature's ne'er night o'er praise proud quiet mind rest rills rocks ROKEBY HALL round shade Shakespeare shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thought throne thy majesty vale voice wandering wave wild wind wings
Populære passager
Side 306 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood...
Side 76 - What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms; Pray so ; and for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Side 102 - While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Side 246 - Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; All this I give you. Let me be your servant : Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your...
Side 141 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and...
Side 31 - Highe'r still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Side 103 - With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise : Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise...
Side 34 - 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.
Side 102 - Angels: for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Side 141 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...