The Poetical Works and Remains of Henry Kirke White

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Butler, 1855 - English poetry - 356 pages
 

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Page 267 - He made darkness his secret place ; his pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies.
Page 163 - Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the Star of Bethlehem.
Page 166 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Page 268 - THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high ; And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. 2 On cherub and on cherubim, Full royally he rode ; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad.
Page 51 - Then since this world is vain, And volatile, and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys, And cares and sorrows eat ? 'Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still?
Page 114 - And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance...
Page 114 - TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. MILD offspring of a dark and sullen sire ! Whose modest form, so delicately fine, Was nursed in whirling storms And cradled in the winds.
Page 190 - What are our joys but dreams? and what our hopes But goodly shadows in the summer cloud ? There's not a wind that blows but bears with it Some rainbow promise: — Not a moment flies But puts its sickle in the fields of life, And mows its thousands, with their joys and cares.
Page 272 - And here it may not be amiss to observe, that the true sublime does not consist of high-sounding words, or pompous magnificence; on the contrary, it most frequently appears clad in native dignity and simplicity, without art, and without ornament. The most elegant critic of antiquity, Longinus, in his Treatise on the Sublime, adduces the following passage from the Book of Genesis, as possessing that quality in an eminent degree : " God said let there be light, and there was light : — Let the earth...
Page 58 - ... when he went to Cambridge, he was immediately as much distinguished for his classical knowledge as his genius : but the seeds of death were in him, and the place to which he had so long looked on with hope, served unhappily as a hothouse to ripen them...

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