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ancient Beautiful snow bell beneath Bill blow boys brave breast breath burlesque Christabel cried crowd dead dear Deborah Lee Devil door e'en Eduard Strauss Elegy eyes face fair fame fate fear fight fire Gilpin hand hath head hear heard heart imitation John John Gilpin lady laugh leave London look Lord Lord Byron Maryland Maud Muller morn ne'er never night O'Brine o'er once parody passed Peter Bell play poem poet poor Potiphar Punch quoth rose round Save shame sigh sight sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spake stood street sweet swells swore tears tell thee There's thou thought thro Tory town Twas voice W. M. Thackeray Walt Whitman William Wordsworth wind Wordsworth written Yankee Doodle Yankee doodle dandy youth
Page 234 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Page 97 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 311 - It must be so ; Plato, thou reasonest well; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Page 234 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 51 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 76 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial, endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more: My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? Oh, tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Page 97 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food : For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 313 - Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green : Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear.
Page 124 - I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
Page 88 - A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair, — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be 1 " " How many t Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where...