The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors1866 - 274 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 28
Page 9
... blessed martyr ! Shakspeare . EVE'S LAMENT ON HER EXPULSION FROM PARADISE . O UNEXPECTED stroke , worse than of death ! Must I thus leave thee , Paradise ? —thus leave Thee , native soil ! these happy walks and shades , Fit haunt of ...
... blessed martyr ! Shakspeare . EVE'S LAMENT ON HER EXPULSION FROM PARADISE . O UNEXPECTED stroke , worse than of death ! Must I thus leave thee , Paradise ? —thus leave Thee , native soil ! these happy walks and shades , Fit haunt of ...
Page 12
... bless'd ! When Spring , with dewy fingers cold , Returns to deck their hallow'd mould , She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod . By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ...
... bless'd ! When Spring , with dewy fingers cold , Returns to deck their hallow'd mould , She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod . By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ...
Page 30
... blessed isles , Which , seen from far Colonna's height , Make glad the heart that hails the sight , And lend to loneliness delight . There mildly dimpling , Ocean's cheek Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught by the laughing tides ...
... blessed isles , Which , seen from far Colonna's height , Make glad the heart that hails the sight , And lend to loneliness delight . There mildly dimpling , Ocean's cheek Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught by the laughing tides ...
Page 45
... bless the bow of God . Methinks thy jubilee to keep , The first - made anthem rang , On earth deliver'd from the deep ; And the first poet sang . Nor ever shall the Muses ' eye Unraptur'd greet thy beam : Theme of primeval prophecy ! Be ...
... bless the bow of God . Methinks thy jubilee to keep , The first - made anthem rang , On earth deliver'd from the deep ; And the first poet sang . Nor ever shall the Muses ' eye Unraptur'd greet thy beam : Theme of primeval prophecy ! Be ...
Page 56
... bless'd abode of man ! While round him night resistless closes fast , And every tempest , howling o'er his head , Renders the savage wilderness more wild . Then throng the busy shapes into his mind , Of cover'd pits , unfathomably deep ...
... bless'd abode of man ! While round him night resistless closes fast , And every tempest , howling o'er his head , Renders the savage wilderness more wild . Then throng the busy shapes into his mind , Of cover'd pits , unfathomably deep ...
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Other editions - View all
The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book No preview available - 2015 |
The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book No preview available - 2018 |
The Standard Poetry Book, Selected From the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book No preview available - 2023 |
Common terms and phrases
angel art thou BATTLE OF BLENHEIM beauty beneath bless bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Brutus Cæsar Cassius cheek child clouds cried dark dead dear death deep dost doth dream earth ETON COLLEGE eyes fair father fear fire flowers gentle glowing grace grave GREECE green grief happy hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry Kirke White hill holy honour hour king land light live Lochiel look lyre MELROSE ABBEY MERCHANT OF VENICE morn mountain mourn murmuring ne'er never night o'er praise pray prayer pride proud rock round Samian wine shade Shakspeare sigh sight sing sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thought thousand Twas vale voice wave weep wild wind wings Wordsworth youth
Popular passages
Page 199 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 161 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Page 117 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the...
Page 141 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Page 198 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Page 91 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 158 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Page 116 - There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again ; And all went merry as a marriage-bell, But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Page 63 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Page 216 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower— Before, milk-white; now purple with love's wound— And maidens call it, love-in-idleness.