The Chilswell Book of English PoetryRobert Bridges |
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Page 32
... And on the holy Hearth The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint , In Urns , and Altars round , XIX . divine ] give oracles . xx . genius ] spirit of the place . A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their 32.
... And on the holy Hearth The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint , In Urns , and Altars round , XIX . divine ] give oracles . xx . genius ] spirit of the place . A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their 32.
Page 39
... , And I to my cabin repair . There's mercy in every place ; And mercy , encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace , And reconciles man to his lot . Cowper . 47 The Banished Duke living in the Forest speaks to 39.
... , And I to my cabin repair . There's mercy in every place ; And mercy , encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace , And reconciles man to his lot . Cowper . 47 The Banished Duke living in the Forest speaks to 39.
Page 71
... give the tongue that can never lee .'— ' My tongue is mine ain ( true Thomas said ) : A gudely gift ye wad gie to me ! I neither dought to buy nor sell At fair or tryst where I may be . ' I dought neither speak to prince or peer , Nor ...
... give the tongue that can never lee .'— ' My tongue is mine ain ( true Thomas said ) : A gudely gift ye wad gie to me ! I neither dought to buy nor sell At fair or tryst where I may be . ' I dought neither speak to prince or peer , Nor ...
Page 91
... give Me a job were I ever inclined , To look in an ' offsaddle and live Where there ' s neither a road nor a tree- But only my Maker an ' me , And I think it will kill me or cure , So I think I will go there and see . Rudyard Kipling ...
... give Me a job were I ever inclined , To look in an ' offsaddle and live Where there ' s neither a road nor a tree- But only my Maker an ' me , And I think it will kill me or cure , So I think I will go there and see . Rudyard Kipling ...
Page 95
... give way to hating , And yet don't look too good , nor talk too wise : If you can dream — and not make dreams your master ; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim ; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those ...
... give way to hating , And yet don't look too good , nor talk too wise : If you can dream — and not make dreams your master ; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim ; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those ...
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bear beauty beneath birds blow breath bright close cloud cold comes dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall fear fire flowers give glory gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hour John keep king land leaves less lies light live look Lord loud mind moon morning move Nature never night o'er once pain peace play poem rest Ring rise round Shakespeare ship shore silent sing sleep song soon soul sound spirit Spring stand stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thou art thought thousand tree true voice waters waves weary wide wild wind wings woods youth
Popular passages
Page 176 - Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 102 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 174 - 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 85 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Page 18 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Page 26 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Page 199 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 203 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild, And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 140 With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Page 4 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 194 - And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.