Poet's Walk: An Introduction to English Poetry |
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Page xvi
... not , The world is too much with us ; late and soon , Getting and spending , we lay waste our powers , but rather I saw her singing at her work , And o'er the sickle bending . V Nature , ' wrote Sir Philip Sidney , ' xvi Preface.
... not , The world is too much with us ; late and soon , Getting and spending , we lay waste our powers , but rather I saw her singing at her work , And o'er the sickle bending . V Nature , ' wrote Sir Philip Sidney , ' xvi Preface.
Page 14
... o'er the burnt soil . And now Advanced in view they stand ; a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms , in guise Of warriors old with ordered spear and shield , Awaiting what command their mighty Chief Had to impose . He ...
... o'er the burnt soil . And now Advanced in view they stand ; a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms , in guise Of warriors old with ordered spear and shield , Awaiting what command their mighty Chief Had to impose . He ...
Page 19
... o'er the faem ; ' The King's daughter of Noroway , ' Tis thou maun bring her hame . ' The first word that Sir Patrick read , Sae loud loud laughed he ; The neist word that Sir Patrick read , The tear blinded his e'e . ' Oh wha is this ...
... o'er the faem ; ' The King's daughter of Noroway , ' Tis thou maun bring her hame . ' The first word that Sir Patrick read , Sae loud loud laughed he ; The neist word that Sir Patrick read , The tear blinded his e'e . ' Oh wha is this ...
Page 20
... o'er , half o'er to Aberdour , ' Tis fifty fathom deep ; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens , Wi ' the Scots lords at his feet . Unknown . 17 LYCIDAS ( Elegy on a Friend drowned in the 20 Poet's Walk.
... o'er , half o'er to Aberdour , ' Tis fifty fathom deep ; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens , Wi ' the Scots lords at his feet . Unknown . 17 LYCIDAS ( Elegy on a Friend drowned in the 20 Poet's Walk.
Page 22
... o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards , the famous Druids , lie , Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high , Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : Ay me ! I fondly dream ...
... o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards , the famous Druids , lie , Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high , Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : Ay me ! I fondly dream ...
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Poet's Walk: An Introduction to English Poetry (Classic Reprint) Mowbray Morris No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
Avès battle beneath blow Bonny Dundee brave breast breath bright Charles Kingsley Childe Harold's Pilgrimage cloud crown dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth echoes England English eyes fair fame fear flowers forest fought gallant glory golden grave green hand happy Hark hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hill honour horse hour John Keats King ladies land leaves light live Lochiel look Lord Byron loud Matthew Arnold merry mighty morn mountain mournful ne'er never night o'er Percy Bysshe Shelley poem praise proud roar rose round Samian wine shine shore sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spirit stars steed streams sweet sword tears thee thine thunder tower voice waves weep wild William Shakespeare William Wordsworth winds wings
Popular passages
Page 165 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 207 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit ? ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy...
Page 59 - A merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw...
Page 87 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. The service past, around the pious man, With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Even children followed with endearing wile, And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed, Their welfare pleased him and their cares distressed; To them his heart, his love, his griefs were...
Page 89 - Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes Their lot forbade ; nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...
Page 207 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone : Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve ; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair...
Page 47 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Page 260 - OH, to be in England now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England — now!
Page 30 - TELL ME NOT, sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.
Page 22 - Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me! I fondly dream " Had ye been there," . . . for what could that have done ? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian...