Other editions - View all
adore art thou BARRY CORNWALL beams beauty behold beneath birds bless bliss bosom breast breath breeze bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB CHARLES SWAIN clouds dark deep delight divine dost doth dream e'en earth ELIZA COOK eternal fair fate fear feel fire flame flowers Friendship gaze glad gleam glorious glory golden grace green happy hath hear heart heaven Hermione hill honour hour JOANNA BAILLIE King of Kings Liberty light living lone look lyre morning mountains muse nature's ne'er never night o'er praise proud quiet mind rest rill rocks ROKEBY HALL round shade Shakespeare shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit stars storm stream sweet swelling tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thought throne thy majesty toil vale voice wandering wave wild wind wings
Page 33 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not; Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower; Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view...
Page 34 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 141 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 179 - His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before : " Come one, come all ! This rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Page 35 - Yet if we could scorn Hate and pride and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then — as I am listening now.
Page 98 - As with a wedge! but when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it...
Page 88 - My heart is awed within me when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me, — the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever.
Page 101 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ; Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these Heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.