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Poetical Works of the Late Mrs. Mary Robinson: Including the Pieces Last ...
Mrs. Mary Robinson
No preview available - 2016
amidst beam beneath blast blest blushing bosom bound breast breath bright brow charms cheek close cold dark death deep despair divine dread fade faint fair fame fancy fate fear feel fire flame flow flowers fond gentle give gloom glow grace grave hand head hear heard heart Heaven hope hour light live lonely lustre maid mark mind moon morn mountain mournful Muse nature Nature's never night o'er pain pale pity plain poor pride proud prove Reason rest rich rise rose round scene seen sense shade shed side sigh silent slow smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spread steals storm stream summer sweet tear tell thee thou thought trembling voice wandering wave weary weep wide wild wind wing wound wretch youth
Page 131 - Chas'd ev'ry pain, sooth'd ev'ry woe; That Truth, unwelcome to my ear, Swells the deep sigh, recalls the tear, Gives to the sense the keenest smart, Checks the warm pulses of the Heart, Darkens my Fate, and steals away Each gleam of joy thro
Page 105 - ... summer day ! The spectre's eyes were sunk, but he Seem'd with their sockets still to see ! The second bell is heard to ring : Four barefoot monks of orders grey, Again their holy service sing ; And round the chapel altar pray : The lady counted o'er and o'er, And shudder'd while she counted — four ! " Oh ! fathers, who was he, so gay, That stood beside the chapel door ? Oh ! tell me, fathers, tell me pray.
Page 104 - Forbear, oh, lady ! look no more— They pass'd — a livid corpse they bore. They pass'd, and all was silent now ; The breeze upon the forest slept ; The moon stole o'er the mountain's brow ; Again the lady sigh'd and wept : She watch'd the holy fathers go Aloug the forest path below.
Page 208 - Is slily open'd, and the half-worn suit (Sometimes the pilfer'd treasure of the base Domestic spoiler), for one half its worth, Sinks in the green abyss. The porter now Bears his huge load along the burning way; And the poor poet wakes from busy dreams, To paint the summer morning. (Norton Anthology of Literature by Women, pp. 251-2) CRITICAL THINKING "London's Summer Morning" is prophetically modern in tone and substance.
Page 176 - And my chill'd breast in throbbing tumults rise ? Mute on the ground my lyre neglected lies, The Muse forgot, and lost the melting lay; My down-cast looks, my...
Page 151 - BOUNDING billow, cease thy motion, Bear me not so swiftly o'er; Cease thy roaring, foamy ocean, I will tempt thy rage no more. Ah! within my bosom beating, Varying passions wildly reign; Love, with proud resentment meeting, Throbs by turns, of joy and pain. Joy, that far from foes I wander, Where their...
Page 151 - Silent grief shall be my glory, — Grief, that stoops not to complain ! Let the bosom prone to ranging, Still by ranging seek a cure ; Mine disdains the thought of changing, Proudly destin'd to endure.
Page 171 - Nature's long holiday ! Luxuriant, rich, In her proud progeny, she smiling marks Their graces, now mature, and wonder-fraught ! Hail! season exquisite! — and hail, ye sons Of rural toil ! — ye blooming daughters ! — ye Who, in the lap of hardy labour rear'd, Enjoy the mind unspotted 1 Up the plain, Or on the side-long hill, or in the glen.
Page 132 - Thee. Yes ; I shall view thee in each Flow'r, That changes with the transient hour : Thy wand'ring Fancy I shall find Borne on the wings of every wind : Thy wild impetuous passions trace O'er the white wave's tempestuous space : In every changing season prove An emblem of thy wav'ring Love.