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answered appeared Arthur asked Aunt beautiful began believe better brought called coming course dark dear don't door eyes face fact feel felt followed garden gave Geoffrey girl give half hand happy head hear heard heart hour interest keep kind lady Latimer laughed leave light live looked married matter mean mind Miss morning mother mountains nature never night Nugent once Otto passed perhaps person picture poor Poppy present pretty question road round seemed seen side smile soon sort speak standing strange street suppose sure talk tell thing thought told took town turned Vernon voice waiting walked whole wife window wish woman wonder young
Page 418 - It was the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, till I confess it began to be something of a bore to me.
Page 29 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 474 - ... up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass — the same hips and haws on the autumn hedgerows — the same redbreasts that we used to call 'God's birds' because they did no harm to the precious crops.
Page 395 - It is a nest of wasps, or swarm of vermin which have overcrept the land. I mean the Monopolies and Pollers of the people : these, like the Frogs of Egypt, have gotten possession of our dwellings, and we have scarce a room free from them. They sup in our cup.
Page 89 - I hear thee and rejoice : 0 Cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering Voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear ; From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off and near. Though babbling only to the vale Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me...
Page 521 - Coleridge was in his finest vein of talk — had all the talk; and let 'em talk as evilly as they do of the envy of poets, I am sure not one there but was content to be nothing but a listener. The Muses were dumb while Apollo lectured on his and their fine art. It is a lie that poets are envious. I have known the best of them, and can speak to it, that they give each other their merits, and are the kindest critics as well as best authors.
Page 107 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Page 521 - ... going to marry her ! impossible! you mean, a part of her: he could not marry her all himself. It would be a case, not of bigamy, but trigamy ; the neighbourhood or the magistrates should interfere. There is enough of her to furnish wives for a whole parish. One man marry her ! — it is monstrous. You might people a colony with her ; or give an assembly with her ; or perhaps take your morning's walk round her, always provided there were frequent restingplaces, and you were in rude health.
Page 370 - The ancient rule, the good old plan, That those shall take who have the power, And those shall keep who can — when the time came that they had lost this preeminence, superiority in strength having passed from them to a nation hitherto counted among their subjects, it was natural and right that the seat of authority should shift with the...