What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
accompanied acknowledges acquaintance with Lady Angel Street appears apprehensions ascent ASTOB Avenue became the tenant bordered Brook canopy of spreading Chapman Clifton colonnade Continuing our walk Cowper wrote decline delightful demesne Dereham disposition elms eminence equally erected extreme fame flowering shrubs foliage following lines friendship front gate gentleman George Courtenay grove Hayley Hayley's Hertfordshire high walk Homer Huntingdon inclosed inclosure Lady Austin Lady Hesketh little Naiad Mary meadows melancholy miles from Olney mind Moss Mundsley Neptune Newgate Street Newton occasioned OLNEY CHURCH ornamented Ouse overpowered his reason pearance Peasant's Nest pendant boughs poem poet poplars present possessor removed resided at Olney roof Rustic Bridge scene seen the Alcove shade SHRUBBERY side Sir John Throckmorton Sir Robert Throckmorton situated stands Strttt summer Task town of Olney translation vale valley village of Emberton Weston House WESTON LODGE Weston Park Wilderness WILLIAM CAWTHORNE UNWIN Wood yews
Page 44 - Stand, never overlook'd our favourite elms, That screen the herdsman's solitary hut; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear; Groves, heaths, and smoking villages remote.
Page 19 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 34 - Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost boughs. No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some, And of a wannish gray ; the willow such, And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf, And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm ; Of deeper green the elm ; and deeper stillr Lord of the woods, the long-surviving oak...
Page 18 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 23 - And watched a poet through misfortune's vale. Her spotless dust, angelic guards defend ! It is the dust of Unwin, Cowper's friend ! That single title in itself is fame, For all who read his verse revere her name.
Page 54 - That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence. Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give an useful lesson to the head, And learning wiser grow without his books.
Page 36 - But that the lord of this enclosed demesne, Communicative of the good he owns, Admits me to a share : the guiltless eye Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys.