Wordsworth to DobellThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1883 |
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... gone by ) To me was all in all . — I cannot paint 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 ...
... gone by ) To me was all in all . — I cannot paint 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 ...
33 ページ
... gone , My life has been approved , And many love me ; but by none Am I enough beloved . ' ' Now both himself and me he wrongs , The man who thus complains ! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains ; And , Matthew , for thy ...
... gone , My life has been approved , And many love me ; but by none Am I enough beloved . ' ' Now both himself and me he wrongs , The man who thus complains ! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains ; And , Matthew , for thy ...
46 ページ
... gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone , And showed my youth How Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . Alas ! where'er the current tends , Regret pursues and with it blends , — Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By ...
... gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone , And showed my youth How Verse may build a princely throne On humble truth . Alas ! where'er the current tends , Regret pursues and with it blends , — Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By ...
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... speak of something that is gone : The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? Where is it now , the glory and the dream ? 5 . Our birth is but a sleep and a 56 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... speak of something that is gone : The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? Where is it now , the glory and the dream ? 5 . Our birth is but a sleep and a 56 THE ENGLISH POETS .
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... gone ! Confirm , I pray , the vision with thy voice : This is our palace , -yonder is thy throne ; Speak , and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice . Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon ; and blest a sad abode ...
... gone ! Confirm , I pray , the vision with thy voice : This is our palace , -yonder is thy throne ; Speak , and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice . Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon ; and blest a sad abode ...
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多く使われている語句
ballads beauty beneath Beppo breast breath bright Brignall brow Byron Canto Charles Lamb Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage cloud cold Coleridge County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight Don Juan doth dream earth EDWARD DOWDEN Emily Brontë English eyes face fair fame fear feel flowers friends gaze genius gentle Giaour grave green hand happy Hartley Coleridge hast hath heard heart heaven hill hope hour human Keats lady lake Leigh Hunt light live lone look mind moon mountains nature ne'er never night o'er once PARISINA passion poems poet poetic poetry round Samian wine scene shade Shelley shore silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought trees Twas verse voice wandering waves weary wild wind Wordsworth youth
人気のある引用
280 ページ - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll [ Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
28 ページ - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
363 ページ - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given. The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ! Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
405 ページ - Fade, far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
411 ページ - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
278 ページ - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
281 ページ - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed, — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime, — The image of Eternity, — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
331 ページ - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind ! Be through my lips to unawakened earth...
407 ページ - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth...
407 ページ - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called 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.