The Chilswell Book of English PoetryRobert Bridges |
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Page 44
... Moon . ' Day after day , day after day , We stuck , nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean . ' Water , water , everywhere , And all the boards did shrink ; Water , water , everywhere , Nor any drop to ...
... Moon . ' Day after day , day after day , We stuck , nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean . ' Water , water , everywhere , And all the boards did shrink ; Water , water , everywhere , Nor any drop to ...
Page 47
... Moon , with one bright star Within the nether tip . ' One after one , by the star - dogg'd Moon , Too quick for groan or sigh , Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang , And cursed me with his eye . dogg'd ] followed closely by ...
... Moon , with one bright star Within the nether tip . ' One after one , by the star - dogg'd Moon , Too quick for groan or sigh , Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang , And cursed me with his eye . dogg'd ] followed closely by ...
Page 49
... Moon went up the sky , And nowhere did abide : Softly she was going up , And a star or two beside- ' Her beams bemock'd the sultry main , Like April hoar - frost spread ; But where the ship's huge shadow lay , The charmed water burnt ...
... Moon went up the sky , And nowhere did abide : Softly she was going up , And a star or two beside- ' Her beams bemock'd the sultry main , Like April hoar - frost spread ; But where the ship's huge shadow lay , The charmed water burnt ...
Page 51
... Moon was at its edge . ' The thick black cloud was cleft , and still The Moon was at its side : Like waters shot from some high crag , The lightning fell with never a jag , A river steep and wide . ' The loud wind never reach'd the ship ...
... Moon was at its edge . ' The thick black cloud was cleft , and still The Moon was at its side : Like waters shot from some high crag , The lightning fell with never a jag , A river steep and wide . ' The loud wind never reach'd the ship ...
Page 54
... Ocean doing ? " 666 Second Voice Still as a slave before his lord , The Ocean hath no blast ; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast- penance ] punishment to do away sin . 6.66 If he may know which way to go ; 54.
... Ocean doing ? " 666 Second Voice Still as a slave before his lord , The Ocean hath no blast ; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast- penance ] punishment to do away sin . 6.66 If he may know which way to go ; 54.
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Common terms and phrases
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.