Little Classics: Poems, lyricalRossiter Johnson J.R. Osgood, 1875 - Literature |
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Page 14
... , snarling at each other's heels . Can I but relive in sadness ? I will turn that earlier page . Hide me from my deep emotion , O thou wondrous Mother - Age ! Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before 14 LITTLE CLASSICS .
... , snarling at each other's heels . Can I but relive in sadness ? I will turn that earlier page . Hide me from my deep emotion , O thou wondrous Mother - Age ! Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before 14 LITTLE CLASSICS .
Page 17
... deep heart of existence beat forever like a boy's ? Knowledge comes , but wisdom lingers , and I linger on the shore , And the individual withers , and the world is more and more . Knowledge comes , but wisdom lingers , and he bears a ...
... deep heart of existence beat forever like a boy's ? Knowledge comes , but wisdom lingers , and I linger on the shore , And the individual withers , and the world is more and more . Knowledge comes , but wisdom lingers , and he bears a ...
Page 18
... Deep in yonder shining Orient , where my life began to beat ; Where in wild Mahratta - battle fell my father evil- starred ; I was left a trampled orphan , and a selfish uncle's ward . Or to burst all links of habit there to wander far ...
... Deep in yonder shining Orient , where my life began to beat ; Where in wild Mahratta - battle fell my father evil- starred ; I was left a trampled orphan , and a selfish uncle's ward . Or to burst all links of habit there to wander far ...
Page 29
... deep with April - hints of sunny tears , ' Neath long soft lashes laid asleep , seemed all too thoughtful for her years ; As though from mine her gaze had caught the secret of some mournful thought . But , when she spoke , her father's ...
... deep with April - hints of sunny tears , ' Neath long soft lashes laid asleep , seemed all too thoughtful for her years ; As though from mine her gaze had caught the secret of some mournful thought . But , when she spoke , her father's ...
Page 39
... deep ; Passionate words as of one beseeching , - The loud beck drowns them : we walk and weep . V. A yellow moon in splendor drooping , A tired queen with her state oppressed , Low by rushes and sword - grass stooping , Lies she soft on ...
... deep ; Passionate words as of one beseeching , - The loud beck drowns them : we walk and weep . V. A yellow moon in splendor drooping , A tired queen with her state oppressed , Low by rushes and sword - grass stooping , Lies she soft on ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright cowslips crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy forever Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JOHN MILTON kiss land let us gang life's light lips live Lochiel Locksley Hall long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn Neath nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain pale flower passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shadows rise shining shore sigh silent sing smile song soul sound spring star sweet tears thee thine things thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave weep Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wind's youth are long
Popular passages
Page 109 - For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Page 78 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
Page 9 - Love took up the glass of time, and turned it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
Page 76 - And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure...
Page 85 - In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a, weary dream.
Page 62 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Page 97 - How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th
Page 17 - Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
Page 69 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Page 111 - Ay me! I fondly dream — Had ye been there — for what could that have done, What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament...