EssaysW. Heinemann, 1896 - 312 strán (strany) |
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A. C. BENSON admiration Andrew Marvell artistic Aurora Leigh austere beauty Ben Jonson Blake Blake's Browning Browning's called Cambridge character characteristic charm Christina Rossetti Church Cowper criticism D. G. Rossetti death delicate delight divine Earles English Eton exquisite eyes fact feeling Felpham genius give Gosse Gosse's Gray Gray's Hales hand heart Henry Henry Bradshaw Henry Vaughan Horace Walpole human humour instance instinct Keble Keble's kind Latin letter lines literary literature lived Lord Marvell Marvell's melancholy Milton mind Miss Rossetti mood nature ness never night Ovid passed passionate perhaps Plato poems poet poetical poetry pure quaint reader religious rhymes scholar seems sense simplicity solemn song Songs of Experience sonnets soul speak spirit stanza strange sweet taste thing thought tion touch true turn utterance verse Vincent Bourne words Wordsworth writing written wrote
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Strana 277 - Does the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place ? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face ? You cannot miss that inn.
Strana 212 - 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...
Strana 196 - There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of the everlasting chime ; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
Strana 104 - You think no doubt he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to fall ; No not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at all.
Strana 169 - Felpham is a sweet place for study, because it is more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden gates : her windows are not obstructed by vapours ; voices of celestial inhabitants are more distinctly heard and their forms more distinctly seen ; and my cottage is also a shadow of their houses.
Strana 103 - THERE is a bird, who by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow; A great frequenter of the church, Where bishoplike he finds a perch, And dormitory too. Above the steeple shines a plate, That turns and turns, to indicate From what point blows the weather. Look up— your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds— that pleases him, He chooses it the rather.
Strana 75 - Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Strana 281 - In the bleak mid-winter Long ago. Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, Nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away When He comes to reign: In the bleak mid-winter A stable-place sufficed The Lord God Almighty Jesus Christ.
Strana 274 - BIRTHDAY. My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a watered shoot ; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit ; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea ; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.
Strana 287 - Her pleasant lot. She left the rosy morn, She left the fields of corn, For twilight cold and lorn And water springs. Through sleep, as through a veil, She sees the sky look pale, And hears the nightingale That sadly sings. Rest, rest, a perfect rest Shed over brow and breast; Her face is toward the west, The purple land. She cannot see the grain Ripening on hill and plain ; She cannot feel the rain Upon her hand. Rest, rest, for evermore Upon a mossy shore ; Rest, rest at the heart's core Till time...