Chrysomela. A Selection from the Lyrical Poems

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Macmillan & Company, 1884 - 199 sayfa
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Sayfa 142 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Sayfa 51 - Ah BEN! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ? Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ; And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Sayfa 122 - GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may : Old Time is still a-flying ; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
Sayfa 96 - Since ghost there is none to affright thee. Let not the dark thee cumber ; What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number.
Sayfa 146 - To MEADOWS. Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers ; And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.
Sayfa 1 - I write of Hell. I sing (and ever shall) Of Heaven, and hope to have it after all.
Sayfa 21 - Come, my Corinna, come ; and, coming, mark How each field turns a street, each street a park Made green, and trimm'd with trees ; see how Devotion gives each house a bough, Or branch ; each porch, each door, ere this, An ark, a tabernacle is, Made up of white thorn neatly interwove ; As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Sayfa 135 - TO BLOSSOMS. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past ; But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
Sayfa 187 - In this world, the Isle of Dreams, While we sit by sorrow's streams, Tears and terrors are our themes, Reciting : But when once from hence we fly, More and more approaching nigh Unto young eternity, Uniting In that whiter Island, where Things are evermore sincere ; Candour here, and lustre there, Delighting : — There no monstrous fancies shall Out of hell an horror call, To create, or cause at all Affrighting.
Sayfa 184 - Cause my speech is now decayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When, God knows, I'm toss'd about, Either with despair, or doubt ; Yet before the glass be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When the tempter me pursu'th With the sins of all my youth, And half damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me...

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