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Allan Cunningham Barry Cornwall Beattie—Minstrel beauty Ben Jonson beneath bird bloom blossom blue blushing bower breath bright brow Burns Carlos Wilcox charm cheek clouds Coleridge Crabbe dark deep doth dwell E. B. Barrett earth Eliza Cook eyes face Fanny Kemble flowers gentle Gentlemen of Verona grace green hair Halleck happy Hartley Coleridge hath hear heart heaven Horne—Orion Lady Leigh Hunt light lily lips look Love's Labor Lost Merchant of Venice merry mind Miss Barrett morning Motherwell Moultrie—The Dream N. P. Willis night noble o'er Osgood passion Poems by Amelia Poets Praed Praed—The pure R. H. Dana rose round shade shines sigh sings smile soft song soul spirit Spring star stream Summer sweet Taylor—Philip Van Artevelde tender thee thine things thou thought Timon toil trees trembling truth voice walk wave wild wind wings Winter Winter's Tale Wordsworth young youth
Page 245 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!
Page 103 - Familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences...
Page 147 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 101 - This should have been a noble creature : he Hath all the energy which would have made A goodly frame of glorious elements, Had they been wisely mingled ; as it is, It is an awful chaos — light and darkness — And mind and dust — and passions and pure thoughts, Mix'd, and contending without end or order, All dormant or destructive...
Page 144 - There stands the messenger of truth : there stands The legate of the skies ! — His theme divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him the violated law speaks out Its thunders ; and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.
Page 94 - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
Page 251 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Page 85 - For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart . . . how shall I say? . . . too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, 'twas all one!
Page 59 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.