The Poets of the Nineteenth CenturyRobert Aris Willmott |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 41
Page 5
... GONE ....... ..... 459 463 THE HISTORY OF A LIFE .... WITHIN AND WITHOUT ........ 526 527 EDGAR ALLAN POE . EDWIN ATHERSTONE . THE RAVEN 466 BATTLE SCENES ........ 530 MARY HOWITT . HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW . * HYMN TO THE NIGHT ...
... GONE ....... ..... 459 463 THE HISTORY OF A LIFE .... WITHIN AND WITHOUT ........ 526 527 EDGAR ALLAN POE . EDWIN ATHERSTONE . THE RAVEN 466 BATTLE SCENES ........ 530 MARY HOWITT . HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW . * HYMN TO THE NIGHT ...
Page 18
... gone , Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown . • May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore , The parting words shall pass my lips no more ! Thy maidens , griev'd themselves at my concern , Oft gave me promise of thy quick return ...
... gone , Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown . • May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore , The parting words shall pass my lips no more ! Thy maidens , griev'd themselves at my concern , Oft gave me promise of thy quick return ...
Page 42
... gone , They turn to sear and yellow . Should I praise Such false complexions , and for beauty take A look consumption - bred ? As soon , if grey Were mixt in young Louisa's tresses brown , I'd call it beautiful variety , And therefore ...
... gone , They turn to sear and yellow . Should I praise Such false complexions , and for beauty take A look consumption - bred ? As soon , if grey Were mixt in young Louisa's tresses brown , I'd call it beautiful variety , And therefore ...
Page 48
... gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfc , And at his heels a stone . " Within these holy cloysters long He languisht , and he dyed , Lamenting of a ladye's love , And ' playning of her pride . " Here bore ...
... gone ! Lady , he's dead and gone ! And at his head a green grass turfc , And at his heels a stone . " Within these holy cloysters long He languisht , and he dyed , Lamenting of a ladye's love , And ' playning of her pride . " Here bore ...
Page 91
... gone by . " Now , all his features lit , he rais'd his look , Then bent it thoughtful , and unclasp'd the book ; And whilst the hour - glass shed its silent sand , A tame opossum lick'd his wither'd hand . That sweetest light of slow ...
... gone by . " Now , all his features lit , he rais'd his look , Then bent it thoughtful , and unclasp'd the book ; And whilst the hour - glass shed its silent sand , A tame opossum lick'd his wither'd hand . That sweetest light of slow ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
AMELIA OPIE beam beauty bends beneath blue bosom bower breast breath bright brow charms cheek cloud cold dark dead dear deep delight Ditto dread dream earth EPICURUS F. O. C. Darley fair Fancy flowers fond gaze gentle gleam glory grave green grey hand hath heard heart heaven hill holy hour Kilmeny Lautaro LEWESDON HILL light living lonely look look'd lov'd MARY TIGHE morning mountains murmur Nature's never night o'er ocean old oaken bucket Orra pride rocks round SACK OF BALTIMORE scene seem'd shade shines shore sigh sight silent sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stood storm stout spurs stream summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought trembling Twas vale VISIT FROM ST voice W. D. Howells wandering wave weep wild winds wings woods youth
Popular passages
Page 446 - Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend t For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Page 468 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.
Page 466 - Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Page 468 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou...
Page 137 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 137 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster 'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Page 446 - Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Page 187 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neigh'd, To join the dreadful revelry.
Page 463 - God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been...
Page 480 - In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the Pass!