Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning: A Study in Human Freedom

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G. Wahr, 1911 - 263 strán (strany)
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Strana 196 - And bade me creep past. No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
Strana 107 - Ah! then, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw; and add the gleam The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile!
Strana 105 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The Girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain.
Strana 256 - A SLUMBER did my spirit seal ; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force ; She neither hears nor sees: Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Strana 107 - tis surely blind. But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne ! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. — Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
Strana 198 - Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped; All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.
Strana 143 - Thou makest thine appeal to me : I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
Strana 101 - Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush, and tree, and sky.
Strana 42 - I have said that poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity...
Strana 150 - They say, The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent heat began, And grew to seeming-random forms, The seeming prey of cyclic storms, Till at the last arose the man...

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