The Golden Treasury: Selected from the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language, and Arranged with Notes |
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Page 3
... light . -This is that happy morn , That day , long - wished day Of all my life so dark , ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates my hopes betray ) , Which , purely white , deserves An everlasting diamond should it mark . This ...
... light . -This is that happy morn , That day , long - wished day Of all my life so dark , ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates my hopes betray ) , Which , purely white , deserves An everlasting diamond should it mark . This ...
Page 12
... paps are centres of delight , Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame , Where Nature moulds the dew of light To feed perfection with the same : Heigh ho , would she were mine ! - With orient pearl , with ruby red , With marble 12 Book.
... paps are centres of delight , Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame , Where Nature moulds the dew of light To feed perfection with the same : Heigh ho , would she were mine ! - With orient pearl , with ruby red , With marble 12 Book.
Page 25
... light , A rosy garland and a weary head : And if these things , as being thine in right , Move not thy heavy grace , thou shalt in me , Livelier than elsewhere , Stella's image see . Sir P. Sidney XLI REVOLUTIONS Like as the waves make ...
... light , A rosy garland and a weary head : And if these things , as being thine in right , Move not thy heavy grace , thou shalt in me , Livelier than elsewhere , Stella's image see . Sir P. Sidney XLI REVOLUTIONS Like as the waves make ...
Page 28
... light ; With dark forgetting of my care return . And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventured youth : Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn , Without the torment of the night's untruth . Cease ...
... light ; With dark forgetting of my care return . And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventured youth : Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn , Without the torment of the night's untruth . Cease ...
Page 30
... light thy light depriveth ! Though here thou liv'st disgraced , And she in heaven is placed , Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth ! Follow those pure beams , whose beauty burneth , That so have scorchéd thee As thou still ...
... light thy light depriveth ! Though here thou liv'st disgraced , And she in heaven is placed , Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth ! Follow those pure beams , whose beauty burneth , That so have scorchéd thee As thou still ...
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Common terms and phrases
Arethuse beauty beneath birds 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 F. T. PALGRAVE fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory golden Gray green H. F. Lyte happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill Kirconnell kiss leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poem Poetry poets rose round S. T. Coleridge seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly waves weep white-thorn wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 10 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Page 172 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 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,...
Page 23 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 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.
Page 111 - To Daffodils FAIR Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Page 174 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Page 308 - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently...
Page 15 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Page 342 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning, This sweet May-morning, And the Children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm: — I hear, I hear, with...
Page 174 - Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Page 173 - 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.