Essays on the Poets: And Other English Writers

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Ticknor and Fields, 1856 - 298 sayfa
 

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Sayfa 37 - The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun ; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising ; There are forty feeding like one...
Sayfa 16 - The pleasure-house is dust : behind, before, This is no common waste, no common gloom ; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. "She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known ; But at the coming of the milder day These monuments shall all be overgrown.
Sayfa 173 - Nothing so true as what you once let fall, "Most women have no characters at all." Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And best distinguished by black, brown, or fair.
Sayfa 65 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Sayfa 182 - For modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right; In faith and hope the world will disagree.
Sayfa 155 - ... the name of Newton remains as a mere nominis umbra, but his book, as a living power, has transmigrated into other forms. Now, on the contrary, the Iliad, the Prometheus of Aeschylus, the Othello or King Lear, the Hamlet or Macbeth...
Sayfa 203 - The reason why the broad distinctions between the two literatures of power and knowledge so little fix the attention, lies in the fact, that a vast proportion of books — history, biography, travels, miscellaneous essays, &c. — lying in a middle zone, confound these distinctions by interblending them. All that we call " amusement" or
Sayfa 177 - twould a saint provoke" (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke), " No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead— And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.
Sayfa 56 - I knew not why: until there rose From the near school-room, voices, that, alas! Were but one echo from a world of woes — The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. And then I clasped my hands and looked around, But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground — So without shame, I spake : — " I will be wise, And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannise Without...

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