Pictures of the Living Authors of BritainPartridge & Oakey, 1851 - 206 páginas |
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Página 17
... , She'll not tell me if she love me , Cruel little Lilian . " These lines , however , have a rich lingering beauty of diction quite delicious to the ear . B 1 / " Thou art not steeped in golden languor , No ALFRED TENNYSON . 17.
... , She'll not tell me if she love me , Cruel little Lilian . " These lines , however , have a rich lingering beauty of diction quite delicious to the ear . B 1 / " Thou art not steeped in golden languor , No ALFRED TENNYSON . 17.
Página 27
... tell , Maiden , I have watched thee daily , And I think thou lov'st me well . She replies in accents fainter ' There is none I love like thee , ' He is but a landscape painter And a village maiden she . He to lips that fondly falter ...
... tell , Maiden , I have watched thee daily , And I think thou lov'st me well . She replies in accents fainter ' There is none I love like thee , ' He is but a landscape painter And a village maiden she . He to lips that fondly falter ...
Página 37
... tell A flitting tale of steadiest faith and zeal : Yes , I will doubt , to make success divine ; A tide of summer dreams with gentlest swell Will bear upon me then , and I shall love most well ! " It is pleasant to know that a great ...
... tell A flitting tale of steadiest faith and zeal : Yes , I will doubt , to make success divine ; A tide of summer dreams with gentlest swell Will bear upon me then , and I shall love most well ! " It is pleasant to know that a great ...
Página 56
... tell you that I never con- sciously stood face to face with an American in the whole course of it . I never had any sort of personal acquaintance with an American , man or woman , therefore you are all dreamed dreams to me- gentle ...
... tell you that I never con- sciously stood face to face with an American in the whole course of it . I never had any sort of personal acquaintance with an American , man or woman , therefore you are all dreamed dreams to me- gentle ...
Página 57
... Tell me what you think of Mrs. Butler's poems , which assuredly ( at least to my mind's assurance ) have more poetry in them , properly so called , if less of suavity and grace . And tell me if you have been taken and charmed as I have ...
... Tell me what you think of Mrs. Butler's poems , which assuredly ( at least to my mind's assurance ) have more poetry in them , properly so called , if less of suavity and grace . And tell me if you have been taken and charmed as I have ...
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Pictures of the Living Authors of Britain (Classic Reprint) Thomas Powell Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
admirable Alfred Tennyson beauty Browning called Carlyle Caudle celebrated character Charles Dickens CHARLES MACKAY Clovernook cold critic DAMI dead death delight Dickens Douglas Jerrold drama dramatist dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING English eyes face faculty feel genius give grace hand head hear heart heaven hermit hero honour Horne Jerrold JOHN WESTLAND MARSTON labour lady laugh Leigh Hunt light listen living look Lord Macready manner mind Miss Barrett morning never night o'er Oliver Twist Paracelsus pass passion peculiar Philip Van Arteveldt play poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prichard RACH reader RICHARD HENRY HORNE Robert Browning Sartor Resartus scene seemed sense Shakspere Shakspere's singular sketch smile Sordello soul spirit style sweet Taylor tell Tennyson thee there's thing thou thought tion true truth verse voice volume wife woman words write
Pasajes populares
Página 31 - THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Página 82 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Página 31 - Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness, And utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all things else have rest from weariness ? All things have rest: why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things, And make perpetual moan, Still from one sorrow to another thrown: Nor ever fold our wings, And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm; Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
Página 66 - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
Página 21 - This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse. 'Think you this mould of hopes and fears Could find no statelier than his peers In yonder hundred million spheres?' It spake, moreover, in my mind: 'Tho' thou wert scatter'd to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
Página 24 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death. " 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Página 31 - We will return no more;" And all at once they sang, "Our island home Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.
Página 30 - That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof, In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.
Página 31 - And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores...
Página 20 - To-day I saw the dragon-fly Come from the wells where he did lie. "An inner impulse rent the veil Of his old husk : from head to tail Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. "He dried his wings: like gauze they grew: Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew A living flash of light he flew.