Great English Poets

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E. Grant Richards, 1907 - 303 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 128 - The sober herd that low'd to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school...
Strana 203 - Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents ; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
Strana 95 - Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own: He who secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.
Strana 225 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Strana 135 - I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him.
Strana 97 - He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul, All the images of Nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily: when he describes any thing, you more than see it, you feel it too.
Strana 144 - Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile! it answers — Yes.
Strana 131 - Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail; Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good!
Strana 195 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Strana 71 - With antic pillars massy proof, And storied windows, richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced choir below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes.

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