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Books Books 31 - 40 of 180 on This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all....
" 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. "
A Book of English Sonnets - Page 35
1906 - 167 pages
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The Indicatior: a Miscellany for the Fields and the Fireside

Leigh Hunt - 1845
...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 ! This sea that...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...
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The Poems of William Wordsworth, D.C.L., Poet Laureate, Etc. Etc

William Wordsworth - Authors' presentation copies - 1845 - 619 pages
...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 ! This Sea that...The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1845 - 504 pages
...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 ! This sea that...moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours, A nd are up-galher'd now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we ore out of tune ; It...
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The Miscellaneous Works of Thomas Arnold..., Part 4

Thomas Arnold - Anglican Communion - 1845 - 519 pages
...we see in nature that is ours ; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea, that bears 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...
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The Poems of William Wordsworth ...

William Wordsworth - Authors' presentation copies - 1845 - 619 pages
...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 every thing, we are out of tune ; 1 1 moves us not — Great God ! 1 'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I,...
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Lost and won; or, The love test, by the author of 'The maid's husband'.

Henrietta Camilla Jenkin - 1846
...soon. Getting aud spending, we lay waste our powers : Little we see in nature that is ours ; We've given our hearts away — a sordid boon ! This sea,...winds, that will be howling at all hours. And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers — For this — for every thing — we are out of tune.' Et...
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The Poets and Poetry of England: In the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1846 - 504 pages
...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 ! This sea that...The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us...
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Poetry for Home and School ...

Anna Cabot Lowell - 1846
...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 ! This sea that...The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us...
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The Irish unitarian magazine, and Bible Christian

...Little we see in nature that is ours ; We've given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bears 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're out of tune ; It moves us not....
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The Miscellaneous Works...

Thomas Arnold - 1846 - 545 pages
...we see in nature that is ours ; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea, that bears her bosom to the moon ; The winds, that will be howling at all hours, And arc up.gathered now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for everything, we are out of tune ; It moves...
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