Lyrical Ballads: With Pastoral and Other PoemsT.N. Longman and O.Rees, 1802 |
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Page 24
... the mossy sod First covered o'er , and taught this aged Tree With its dark arms to form a circling bower , I well remember . - He was one who owned 24 Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew tree which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite.
... the mossy sod First covered o'er , and taught this aged Tree With its dark arms to form a circling bower , I well remember . - He was one who owned 24 Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew tree which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite.
Page 25
... these barren rocks , with juniper , And heath , and thistle , thinly sprinkled o'er , Fixing his down - cast eye , he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished , tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life : And lifting 25.
... these barren rocks , with juniper , And heath , and thistle , thinly sprinkled o'er , Fixing his down - cast eye , he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished , tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life : And lifting 25.
Page 78
... O'er moor and mountain , midnight theft to hatch ! To charm the surly House - dog's faithful bark , Or hang on tip - toe at the lifted latch ; The gloomy lantern , and the dim blue match , The black disguise , the warning whistle shrill ...
... O'er moor and mountain , midnight theft to hatch ! To charm the surly House - dog's faithful bark , Or hang on tip - toe at the lifted latch ; The gloomy lantern , and the dim blue match , The black disguise , the warning whistle shrill ...
Page 90
... O'er its soft bed of verdure . All is still , A balmy night ! and tho ' the stars be dim , Yet let us think upon the vernal showers That gladden the green earth , and we shall find . A pleasure in the dimness of the stars . And hark ...
... O'er its soft bed of verdure . All is still , A balmy night ! and tho ' the stars be dim , Yet let us think upon the vernal showers That gladden the green earth , and we shall find . A pleasure in the dimness of the stars . And hark ...
Page 92
... O'er Philomela's pity - pleading strains . My Friend , and my Friend's Sister ! we have learnt A different lore : we may not thus profane Nature's sweet voices always full of love And joyance ! ' Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds ...
... O'er Philomela's pity - pleading strains . My Friend , and my Friend's Sister ! we have learnt A different lore : we may not thus profane Nature's sweet voices always full of love And joyance ! ' Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albatross ancient Mariner Babe Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze chatter cold composition dead dear door endeavoured excitement fair fear feelings Friend Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath hear heard heart high crag Hill of moss hope Idiot Boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist language limbs Liswyn farm live look'd looks LYRICAL BALLADS Martha Ray metre metrical mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd nature never night numbers o'er objects oh misery old Susan pain pass'd passion pleasure Poems Poet Poet's Poetry Pond Pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray produced prose Quoth Reader Ship silent Simon Lee song soul spirit Stephen Hill stood Susan Gale sweet tale tautology tears tell thee There's things Thorn thou thought thro tion truth Twas verse voice wedding-guest wherefore wild wind wood words Young Harry
Popular passages
Page 195 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 196 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Page vii - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...
Page 198 - My dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear dear Sister! and this prayer I make Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lend From joy to joy...
Page xxxviii - The remotest discoveries of the Chemist, the Botanist, or Mineralogist will be as proper objects of the Poet's art as any upon which it can be employed if the time should ever come when these things shall be familiar to us and the relations under which they are contemplated by the followers of these respective sciences shall be manifestly and palpably material to us as enjoying and suffering beings.
Page 153 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Page xxxvii - He is the rock of defence for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with him relationship and love. In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs : in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
Page 194 - In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro...
Page 92 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Page 192 - These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves Among the woods and copses, nor disturb The wild green landscape. Once again I see These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral farms, Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!