Five minutes daily readings of poetry, selected by H.L.S. Lear |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 82
Page 3
... sweet birds ' mar- riage hymns . Time was but leisure to their lingering thought , There was no need for haste to finish aught ; But sweet beginnings were repeated still , Like infant - babblings that no task fulfil , For love , that ...
... sweet birds ' mar- riage hymns . Time was but leisure to their lingering thought , There was no need for haste to finish aught ; But sweet beginnings were repeated still , Like infant - babblings that no task fulfil , For love , that ...
Page 5
... sweet it is to see Thee lie In such a place of rest . Sleep , Holy Babe ! Thine Angels watch around : All bending low , with folded wings , Before th ' Incarnate King of kings , In reverent awe profound . Sleep , Holy Babe ! While I ...
... sweet it is to see Thee lie In such a place of rest . Sleep , Holy Babe ! Thine Angels watch around : All bending low , with folded wings , Before th ' Incarnate King of kings , In reverent awe profound . Sleep , Holy Babe ! While I ...
Page 6
... the daisy appears , She greets the fair stranger with motherly tears ; And they mingle so sweet with the golden ray Of the struggling beam that chides her away . But where's the last speck of her brightness seen ? 6 JANUARY .
... the daisy appears , She greets the fair stranger with motherly tears ; And they mingle so sweet with the golden ray Of the struggling beam that chides her away . But where's the last speck of her brightness seen ? 6 JANUARY .
Page 9
... Unto the world I may not weep , But save my sorrow all , and keep A secret heart , sweet soul , for thee , As the great earth and swelling sea . T. LOVELL BEDDOES . January II . GOLD banish'd honour from the mind , JANUARY .
... Unto the world I may not weep , But save my sorrow all , and keep A secret heart , sweet soul , for thee , As the great earth and swelling sea . T. LOVELL BEDDOES . January II . GOLD banish'd honour from the mind , JANUARY .
Page 12
... sweet music's strain ; Seldom it comes , to few from Heaven sent , That much in little , —all in nought - Content . Unknown Author of the end of the XVI . Century . January 14 . ARCITE'S DEATH . AND with that word his speche faille ...
... sweet music's strain ; Seldom it comes , to few from Heaven sent , That much in little , —all in nought - Content . Unknown Author of the end of the XVI . Century . January 14 . ARCITE'S DEATH . AND with that word his speche faille ...
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Common terms and phrases
A. H. CLOUGH angels beatific beauty behold beneath bird blessed breast breath bright calm canst CHARLES KINGSLEY child Christ CHRISTINA ROSSETTI Church clouds dark Dctober dead dear death deep divine doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eternal eyes fair fear feel flowers friends GEORGE ELIOT glory God's golden Golden Legend grace grave grief hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven Hesperides holy hope hour Inchcape Rock J. H. NEWMAN JEAN INGELOW King leaves life's light live look Lord LORD HOUGHTON March month MATTHEW ARNOLD mind morning ne'er never night o'er pain passion peace praise pray prayer rest rose shine sigh silence sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring stars sweet tears thee thine things Thou art thought thro tree unto voice waves weep WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind wings words youth
Popular passages
Page 205 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost...
Page 66 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay...
Page 219 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Page 102 - 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.
Page 120 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires ; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires. Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
Page 27 - When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
Page 76 - There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is naught, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
Page 215 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Page 118 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st...
Page 127 - Everything did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone: She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity. 'Fie, fie, fie...