English Poetry and Prose of the Romantic Movement (Google eBook)

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George Benjamin Woods
Scott, Foresman, 1916 - England - 1432 pages
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Page 285 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Page 233 - Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened: that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on. Until. the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended. we are laid asleep In body. and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony. and the deep power of joy. We see into the life of things.
Page 515 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 304 - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business...
Page 359 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Page 303 - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong. The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong...
Page 303 - Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Page 304 - Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering...
Page 528 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! let joy be unconfined: No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
Page 303 - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore; Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

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