Conversations on Poetry:: Intended for the Amusement and Instruction of Children |
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Page 25
... Than any in the month of May . Thy music is as charming now , When not a flower or leaf is seen , As when the daisies deck the fields , And all the woods are robed in green . с snow ; Thou dost not droop thy merry wing , 25.
... Than any in the month of May . Thy music is as charming now , When not a flower or leaf is seen , As when the daisies deck the fields , And all the woods are robed in green . с snow ; Thou dost not droop thy merry wing , 25.
Page 26
... Thou dost not droop thy merry wing , Though thick and cold descends the And in thy song there is no pause , Though loud the winds and tempests blow . But yonder comes a raging storm , And ruffled is thy crimson breast ; Then spread thy ...
... Thou dost not droop thy merry wing , Though thick and cold descends the And in thy song there is no pause , Though loud the winds and tempests blow . But yonder comes a raging storm , And ruffled is thy crimson breast ; Then spread thy ...
Page 27
... thou ' dispense no rich perfume , Nor yet with splendid tints allure , Both valour's crest and beauty's bower , Oft hast thou decked , a favourite flower . Flower of the wild ! whose purple glow Adorns the dusky mountain's side , Not ...
... thou ' dispense no rich perfume , Nor yet with splendid tints allure , Both valour's crest and beauty's bower , Oft hast thou decked , a favourite flower . Flower of the wild ! whose purple glow Adorns the dusky mountain's side , Not ...
Page 29
... ? Both valour's crest and beauty's bower , Oft hast thou decked , a favourite flower . ' " Why , you know , papa , that Geof- frey Plantagenet , the father of Henry the Second , used to wear a sprig of broom c 2 29 :
... ? Both valour's crest and beauty's bower , Oft hast thou decked , a favourite flower . ' " Why , you know , papa , that Geof- frey Plantagenet , the father of Henry the Second , used to wear a sprig of broom c 2 29 :
Page 33
... thou art gone Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown . May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore , The parting word shall pass my lips no more . Where once we dwelt our name it heard no more , Children not thine have trod my nursery ...
... thou art gone Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown . May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore , The parting word shall pass my lips no more . Where once we dwelt our name it heard no more , Children not thine have trod my nursery ...
Common terms and phrases
admire Æneid amuse bard Beaumaris beautiful virgin bees blossoms called charms Clara conversation convey instruction Copper-plates Cowper's dear deck delightful descriptive poetry didactic poetry epic poem epic poetry exclaimed fable fancy Fanny farmer's daughter father favourite flowers fond genius Geysers girl Greeks half bound happiness heard heath-fowl Helen hero Holborn Hill Homer Iliad illustrious imagination invention Iris language lines little Rosina lively lively colours lyre Maria Mary Elliott Mary Hughes Maurice ment metaphor Milton mind morning moun myrtle nature never o'er objects Orpheus papa pastoral poetry peculiar peeps plain Plates pleasures poet poetical composition prose repeat rise rural scene scenery scriptive shepherd simile sister SMALLFIELD smiling snow song species spring steam-vessel style suppose sure sweets tains taphor taste tell thee thing thou tion truth Ulysses understand verse village walk whilst William Darton young
Popular passages
Page 34 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Page 33 - I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own.
Page 95 - To hear the lark begin his flight And singing startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Page 33 - I heard the bell toll'd' on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ? — It was.
Page 127 - Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Page 34 - I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. But no...
Page 92 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Page 125 - He knew his lord ; he knew, and strove to meet ; In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet ; Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes, Salute his master, and confess his joys.
Page 27 - ... wood, — To thy protecting shade she runs, Thy tender buds supply her food ; Her young forsake her downy plumes To rest upon thy opening blooms. Flower of the desert though thou art ! The deer that range the mountain free, The graceful doe, the stately hart, Their food and shelter seek from thee ; The bee thy earliest blossom greets, And draws from thee her choicest sweets. Gem of the heath ! whose modest bloom Sheds beauty o'er the lonely moor : Though thou dispense no rich perfume, Nor yet...
Page 124 - Thus, near the gates conferring as they drew, Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew: He not unconscious of the voice and tread, Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head; Bred by Ulysses, nourish'd at his board, But, ah!