The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English Language |
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Page 11
... . Lovelace ( 1618-1658 ) , To Lucasta . Going to 49. Milton the Wars , 61 · 62 ( 1608-1674 ) , On the Morning of Christ's Nativity , - 63 50 . 99 99 L'Allegro , - 73 - PAGE 78 83 51. Milton 52 . 53 . CONTENTS . xiii .
... . Lovelace ( 1618-1658 ) , To Lucasta . Going to 49. Milton the Wars , 61 · 62 ( 1608-1674 ) , On the Morning of Christ's Nativity , - 63 50 . 99 99 L'Allegro , - 73 - PAGE 78 83 51. Milton 52 . 53 . CONTENTS . xiii .
Page 12
... morning , Like as the waves , Tired with all these , No longer mourn , That time of Tear , But be contented , When in the chronicle , Let me not to the marriage , - - 97 - 97 - 98 - 98 · 99 - 100 100 ΙΟΙ 70. Shakespeare ( 1564-1616 ) ...
... morning , Like as the waves , Tired with all these , No longer mourn , That time of Tear , But be contented , When in the chronicle , Let me not to the marriage , - - 97 - 97 - 98 - 98 · 99 - 100 100 ΙΟΙ 70. Shakespeare ( 1564-1616 ) ...
Page 7
... morning . 1825 Edition . ROBERT BROWNING . Song from " Pippa Passes . " THE year's at the spring And day's at the morn ; Morning's at seven ; The hill - side's dew - pearled ; 5 . 6 . The lark's on the wing ; ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD ...
... morning . 1825 Edition . ROBERT BROWNING . Song from " Pippa Passes . " THE year's at the spring And day's at the morn ; Morning's at seven ; The hill - side's dew - pearled ; 5 . 6 . The lark's on the wing ; ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD ...
Page 24
... morn , but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds , rolling dun , Where furious Frank , and fiery Hun , Shout in their sulph'rous canopy . The combat deepens . On , ye brave , Who rush to glory , or the grave ! Wave , Munich ...
... morn , but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds , rolling dun , Where furious Frank , and fiery Hun , Shout in their sulph'rous canopy . The combat deepens . On , ye brave , Who rush to glory , or the grave ! Wave , Munich ...
Page 27
... morning , But the tears of mournful eve ! Where no hope is , life's a warning That only serves to make us grieve , When we are old : That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking - leave , Like some poor nigh - related ...
... morning , But the tears of mournful eve ! Where no hope is , life's a warning That only serves to make us grieve , When we are old : That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking - leave , Like some poor nigh - related ...
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The Hundred Best Poems (Lyrical) In the English Language (Classic Reprint) Adam L. Gowans No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
AE fond kiss ALEXANDER POPE Arethuse beautiful ANNABEL LEE beneath birds blest bonie breast breath bright bright eyes brow canst child cloud dark darling buds dead death deep dost doth dream earth Edition eyes fair fear flowers glory golden slumber grave green happy hast hath haunt hear heard heart heaven hill holy John John Anderson kisses LADY NAIRNE land leal leaves light live look loud luve Lycidas Melancholy moan moon morn mountains Muse ne'er never night o'er old familiar faces Orpheus pale peace Pippa Passes praise rose Samian wine SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shade shepherds shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smiles soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star stream summer's lease sweet tears Text Thammuz thee thine thou art thought trees unseen voice waves weep white-thorn wild winds wings youth
Popular passages
Page 49 - Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 89 - 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.
Page 70 - 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 50 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 107 - 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 noon-day 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.
Page 77 - Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running,' Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Page 125 - O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; 10 But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Page 76 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, no And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Page 96 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Page 53 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?