English Poems from Chaucer to Kipling (Google eBook)

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Thomas Marc Parrott, Augustus White Long
Ginn, 1903 - English poetry - 401 pages
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Page 219 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Page 150 - 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. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will:...
Page 115 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth, accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Page 218 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Page 233 - We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Page 209 - O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)...
Page 233 - Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...
Page 112 - The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne: Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 211 - Hail to thee, blithe spirit ! bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art ! Higher still and higher, from the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire ; the blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring, ever singest.
Page 41 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...

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