Selections from Byron, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats and BrowningCharles Townsend Copeland, Henry Milner Rideout |
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Page 31
... I had not strength to stir , or strive , But felt that I was still alive- A frantic feeling , when we know That what we love shall ne'er be so . I know not why 240 I could not die , I had no earthly hope Selected Poems 31.
... I had not strength to stir , or strive , But felt that I was still alive- A frantic feeling , when we know That what we love shall ne'er be so . I know not why 240 I could not die , I had no earthly hope Selected Poems 31.
Page 32
... feeling Among the stones I stood a stone , And was , scarce conscious what I wist , As shrubless crags within the mist ; For all was blank , and bleak , and grey ; It was not night - it was not day ; - It was not even the dungeon ...
... feeling Among the stones I stood a stone , And was , scarce conscious what I wist , As shrubless crags within the mist ; For all was blank , and bleak , and grey ; It was not night - it was not day ; - It was not even the dungeon ...
Page 33
... feel and think . I know not if it late were free , Or broke its cage to perch on mine , But knowing well captivity , 270 275 280 285 290 295 Sweet bird ! I could not wish for thine ! Or if it were , in wingéd guise , SELECTIONS - 3 A ...
... feel and think . I know not if it late were free , Or broke its cage to perch on mine , But knowing well captivity , 270 275 280 285 290 295 Sweet bird ! I could not wish for thine ! Or if it were , in wingéd guise , SELECTIONS - 3 A ...
Page 37
... feel less than they ? We were all inmates of one place , And I , the monarch of each race , 390 395 400 Had power to kill — yet , strange to tell ! In quiet we had learned to dwell ; My very chains and I grew friends , So much a long ...
... feel less than they ? We were all inmates of one place , And I , the monarch of each race , 390 395 400 Had power to kill — yet , strange to tell ! In quiet we had learned to dwell ; My very chains and I grew friends , So much a long ...
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Common terms and phrases
Athens beauty beneath birds breath bright Browning Byron Château de Chillon child Chillon cloud dark dead death deep delight dost doth Dowden dream earth England English Essays eyes fair fancy fear feel flowers friends galloped glory green happy hath hear heard heart heaven HENRY VAN DYKE Hervé Riel hills hope hour JOHN KEATS Keats lake Leigh Hunt light limbs live look Lord Byron Matthew Arnold Mazeppa morning mountain NEIDPATH CASTLE never night o'er once pain passed PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Pheidippides poems poet poet's poetry praise Prisoner of Chillon R. H. Hutton rock round Ruth seem'd Shelley Shelley's sight silent sing sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul spirit star sweet thee thine things thou art thought trees twas voice wandering waves wild wind Wordsworth wrote Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 85 - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Page 253 - There was a little city, and few men within it; and there came a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks against it. Now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man.
Page 85 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 184 - My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare...
Page 220 - 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? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Page 270 - And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows? Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge- — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Page 266 - for Aix is in sight !" "How they'll greet us !" — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Page 140 - The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
Page 23 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom— Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Page 173 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright.