The Luggie: And Other PoemsMacmillan, 1862 - 151 pages |
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ADAPTED FOR PRESENTS ARCHIBALD GEIKIE beauty bird blue Bothlin boughs breath brooklet calm CAMBRIDGE CHARLES KINGSLEY charm clear cloth clouds CO'S LIST cold Crown 8vo DAVID GRAY DAVID MASSON dear death delight Dobell dream earth EDITION EDWIN OF DEIRA eyes faint fair fall Fcap feeling flower GEORGE WILSON gilt leaves Glasgow gleaming glens gloom glory golden green hath heart HENRY KINGSLEY Kirkintilloch literary living lonely Luggie flows MACMILLAN AND CO'S melody MEMOIR Merkland Milnes mind mist mood moon morning mother Mount Seir murmur never night o'er passion poem poet rain reader Royal 16mo sacred says shadow shines silent silver sing smooth snow soft song soul spirit star stream summer sunshine sweet sweeter Sydney Dobell tender thee thou thro UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE utter valley verses weary Westminster Abbey wind winter wonder YELLOWHAMMER young youth
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Page 151 - The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE.
Page 7 - MASSON.— Essays, Biographical and Critical; chiefly on the English PoetS. By DAVID MASSON, MA Professor of English Literature in University College, London. Svo. cloth, 12s. 6d. MASSON.— British Novelists and their Styles ; being a Critical Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction.
Page 4 - TOCQUEVILLE. — Memoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville. Translated from the French by the Translator of "Napoleon's Correspondence with King Joseph.
Page 96 - MY EPITAPH Below lies one whose name was traced in sand — He died, not knowing what it was to live : Died while the first sweet consciousness of manhood And maiden thought electrified his soul: Faint beatings in the calyx of the rose. Bewildered reader, pass without a sigh In a proud sorrow ! There is life with God, In other kingdom of a sweeter air; In Eden every flower is blown. Amen.
Page 151 - THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE.
Page 66 - God ! That I die young, and make no further moans ; That, underneath the unrespective sod, In unescutcheoned privacy, my bones Shall crumble soon, — then give me strength to bear The last convulsive throe of too sweet breath ! I tremble from the edge of life, to dare The dark and fatal leap, having no faith, No glorious yearning for the Apocalypse; But, like a child that in the night-time cries For light, I cry; forgetting the eclipse Of knowledge and our human destinies. O peevish and uncertain...
Page 70 - Last night, on coughing slightly with sharp pain, There came arterial blood, and with a sigh Of absolute grief I cried in bitter vein. That drop is my death-warrant: I must die. Poor meagre life is mine, meagre and poor! Rather a piece of childhood thrown away; An adumbration faint; the overture To stifled music; year that ends in May; The sweet beginning of a tale unknown; A dream unspoken; promise unfulfilled; A morning with no noon, a rose unblown — All its deep rich vermilion crushed and killed...
Page 84 - The hedge-row leaves are stamp'd, and, all forgot, The broodless nest sits visible in the thorn. Autumn, among her drooping marigolds, Weeps all her garnered sheaves, and empty folds, And dripping orchards — plundered and forlorn. The season is a dead one, and I die! "No more, no more for me the spring shall make A resurrection in the earth and take The death from out her heart — O God, I die!
Page 7 - No sun, yet all around that inward light Which is in purity, — a soft moonshine, The silvery dimness of a happy dream. How beautiful ! afar on moorland ways, Bosomed by mountains, darkened by huge glens, (Where the lone altar raised by Druid hands Stands like a mournful phantom), hidden clouds Let fall soft beauty, till each green fir branch Is plumed and tassel'd, till each heather stalk Is delicately fringed. The sycamores, Thro' all their mystical entanglement Of boughs, are draped with silver.
Page 142 - The soul to adoration. First I heard A low, thick lubric gurgle, soft as love, Yet sad as memory, through the silence poured Like starlight. But the mood intenser grows, Precipitate rapture quickens, move on move Lucidly linked together, till the close.