The Poetry of the SentimentsRufus Wilmot Griswold Leavitt & Allen, 1853 - 320 pages |
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Page 11
... at his prison doors , Hark ! hear him ! how he beats , and tugs , and roars , As if he would break forth again and sweep Each living thing within his lowest deep . 11 Type of the Infinite ! I look away Over thy ADMIRATION The ocean,
... at his prison doors , Hark ! hear him ! how he beats , and tugs , and roars , As if he would break forth again and sweep Each living thing within his lowest deep . 11 Type of the Infinite ! I look away Over thy ADMIRATION The ocean,
Page 16
... living fires , Lords of dependent systems , kings of worlds That wait as satellites upon their power , And flourish in their smile . And meditate the wonder ! Awake , my soul , Countless suns Blaze round thee , leading forth their ...
... living fires , Lords of dependent systems , kings of worlds That wait as satellites upon their power , And flourish in their smile . And meditate the wonder ! Awake , my soul , Countless suns Blaze round thee , leading forth their ...
Page 18
... living worlds Unfold ! No language ? Everlasting light And everlasting silence ? May read and understand . Yet the eye The hand of GoD Has written legibly what man may know , THE GLORY OF THE MAKER . There it shines , Ineffable ...
... living worlds Unfold ! No language ? Everlasting light And everlasting silence ? May read and understand . Yet the eye The hand of GoD Has written legibly what man may know , THE GLORY OF THE MAKER . There it shines , Ineffable ...
Page 50
... by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love : Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude : But , lovely child ! thy magic stole At once 50 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS . To a sleeping child,
... by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love : Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude : But , lovely child ! thy magic stole At once 50 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS . To a sleeping child,
Page 59
... living world that sees him now Shall roll unconscious dust around the sun . Quelling from age to age the vital throb In human hearts , Death shall not subjugate The pulse that swells in his stupendous breast , Or interdict his ...
... living world that sees him now Shall roll unconscious dust around the sun . Quelling from age to age the vital throb In human hearts , Death shall not subjugate The pulse that swells in his stupendous breast , Or interdict his ...
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Common terms and phrases
adore art thou BARRY CORNWALL beams beauty behold beneath birds bless bliss bosom brave breast breath breeze bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB CHARLES SWAIN clouds dark deep delight divine dost doth dream e'en earth ELIZA COOK eternal fair fate fear feel fire flame flowers Friendship gaze glorious glory golden grace green happy hath hear heart heaven hill honour hour JOANNA BAILLIE King of Kings land Liberty light living lonely look Lord lyre morning mountain muse nature's ne'er night o'er praise proud quiet mind rest rills rocks ROKEBY HALL round shade Shakespeare shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thought throne thy majesty vale voice wandering wave wild wind wings
Popular passages
Page 306 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood...
Page 76 - What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms; Pray so ; and for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Page 102 - While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Page 246 - Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; All this I give you. Let me be your servant : Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your...
Page 141 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and...
Page 31 - Highe'r still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Page 103 - With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise : Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise...
Page 34 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 102 - Angels: for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Page 141 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...