A Book of English Sonnets |
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Page 133
... o'er which I fly ; Yet o'er the one deep master - chord I hover , And dare not stoop , fearing to tell — I love her . REMEMBER R EMEMBER me when I am gone away , 133 WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE “Like a musician that ...
... o'er which I fly ; Yet o'er the one deep master - chord I hover , And dare not stoop , fearing to tell — I love her . REMEMBER R EMEMBER me when I am gone away , 133 WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE WILLIAM CALDWELL ROSCOE “Like a musician that ...
Page 138
... - stirred feet still answering to his sign : — These are her gifts , as tongue may tell them o'er . Breathe low her name , my soul ; for that means more . THE DARK GLASS OT I myself know all my love 138 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Her Gifts.
... - stirred feet still answering to his sign : — These are her gifts , as tongue may tell them o'er . Breathe low her name , my soul ; for that means more . THE DARK GLASS OT I myself know all my love 138 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Her Gifts.
Page 140
... O'er vanished hours and hours eventual . Even so much life hath the poor tress of hair Which , stored apart , is all love hath to show For heart - beats and for fire - heats long ago ; Even so much life endures unknown , even where ...
... O'er vanished hours and hours eventual . Even so much life hath the poor tress of hair Which , stored apart , is all love hath to show For heart - beats and for fire - heats long ago ; Even so much life endures unknown , even where ...
Page 146
... o'er the book of Nature mixed their breath With neck - twined arms , as oft we watched them there ; And did these die that thou mightst bear me Death ? EAUTY still walketh on the earth and air : BEAUTY 146 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Newborn ...
... o'er the book of Nature mixed their breath With neck - twined arms , as oft we watched them there ; And did these die that thou mightst bear me Death ? EAUTY still walketh on the earth and air : BEAUTY 146 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Newborn ...
Page 147
... o'er us bending Within old starry - gated Poesy , To meet a soul set to no worldly tune , Like thine , sweet friend ! Oh , dearer this to me Than are the dewy trees , the sun , the moon , Or noble music with a golden ending . TO DR ...
... o'er us bending Within old starry - gated Poesy , To meet a soul set to no worldly tune , Like thine , sweet friend ! Oh , dearer this to me Than are the dewy trees , the sun , the moon , Or noble music with a golden ending . TO DR ...
Common terms and phrases
beauty behold better blind bliss blossom breath bright brow Castara cheek child crown Dante Gabriel Rossetti dark dead dear Death despair didst divine dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ERNEST DOWSON ERNEST MYERS EUGENE LEE-HAMILTON face fears feet FIONA MACLEOD fire flame flowers forget gold golden grace grave grey hair hand hath hear heart heaven HILAIRE BELLOC hope JEAN INGELOW Julian Fane Juliet kiss LAURENCE HOUSMAN life's lips live look Love's man's MATHILDE BLIND MATTHEW ARNOLD Messrs moan moon morn never night o'er Ozymandias pain pale passionate peace PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON praise remember rose round saith shrine sigh sight silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sonnets sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears thee thing thou art thought Time's truth wake waste watched weary wert wild wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 50 - 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...
Page 16 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now.
Page 9 - 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, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Page 13 - 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 the rest.
Page 33 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Page 37 - This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Page 48 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. // Near them, on the sand, / Half sunk, / a shattered visage lies, / whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, / Tell that its sculptor / well those passions read / Which yet survive, / stamped on these lifeless things, / The hand that mocked them, / and the heart that fed: // And on the pedestal / these words appear: // "My...
Page 53 - Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art — Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...
Page xxii - My true love hath my heart, and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his because in me it bides: My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
Page 14 - Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss. Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquered woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow.