What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Anlh Anth Antistrophe arms beneath blest bosom breast breath bright Charles Lamb cheek child Christabel clouds Coleridge dark dated dear Death December 17 deep dream earth edition Estlin fair Fancy father fear ﬁelds ﬁerce ﬁnd ﬁre ﬁrst published ﬂame ﬂash ﬂight ﬂoating ﬂow ﬂowers ﬂy Friend gaze gentle groan hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hexameters Hope hour included in 1797 July 19 lady Letter to Southey Life’s light lines Lord lov’d Love Lyrical Ballads Maid man’s meek mind Monody Morning Chronicle Morning Post mother Muse ne’er night Note o’er Pantisocracy Pixies poem preﬁxed published in 1796 reprinted round S. T. Coleridge Sarah Hutchinson Sibylline Leaves sigh silent Skiddaw sleep smile soft song Sonnet soul sound Spirit stanza stream sweet tale tears thee thine thou thought thro vale voice Watchman wild wind wing youth
Page 228 - And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline. Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother: They parted - ne'er to meet again!
Page 120 - And I looked, and behold a pale horse : and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.
Page 190 - The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners...
Page 197 - A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. "I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky, 250 Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
Page 996 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 198 - O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blessed them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blessed them unaware.
Page 377 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
Page 217 - The night is chill ; the forest bare ; Is it the wind that moaneth bleak? There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Page 229 - They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.