Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper, 1882 - 958 pages |
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Page v
... Soul's Tendencies to the Infinite . 186 The High - born Soul .. 187 Allston , Washington . Mind , the Fount of Beauty .. 187 Sonnet on Coleridge ..... The Ascent of Being . 187 America to Great Britain .. 350 350 Through Nature up to ...
... Soul's Tendencies to the Infinite . 186 The High - born Soul .. 187 Allston , Washington . Mind , the Fount of Beauty .. 187 Sonnet on Coleridge ..... The Ascent of Being . 187 America to Great Britain .. 350 350 Through Nature up to ...
Page 13
... soul the body form doth take ; For soul is form , and doth the body make . EASTER MORNING . Most glorious Lord of life , that on this day Didst make thy triumph over death and sin , And , having harrowed hell , didst bring away ...
... soul the body form doth take ; For soul is form , and doth the body make . EASTER MORNING . Most glorious Lord of life , that on this day Didst make thy triumph over death and sin , And , having harrowed hell , didst bring away ...
Page 14
... Soul's Errand , " six stanzas belonging to " The Lie , " can be explained only by the laxity of the times in regard to literary property . The versions of this poem differ considerably . The title of " The Soul's Errand " is usually ...
... Soul's Errand , " six stanzas belonging to " The Lie , " can be explained only by the laxity of the times in regard to literary property . The versions of this poem differ considerably . The title of " The Soul's Errand " is usually ...
Page 16
... soul , like quiet palmer , Travelleth towards the land of Heaven ; Over the silver mountains Where spring the nectar fountains : There will I kiss The bowl of bliss , And drink mine everlasting fill Upon every milken hill . My soul will ...
... soul , like quiet palmer , Travelleth towards the land of Heaven ; Over the silver mountains Where spring the nectar fountains : There will I kiss The bowl of bliss , And drink mine everlasting fill Upon every milken hill . My soul will ...
Page 26
... souls . Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? Or , why is this immortal that thou hast ? Oh ! Pythagoras , - Metempsychosis ! - true , were that This soul should fly from me , and I be changed Into some brutish beast . All beasts ...
... souls . Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? Or , why is this immortal that thou hast ? Oh ! Pythagoras , - Metempsychosis ! - true , were that This soul should fly from me , and I be changed Into some brutish beast . All beasts ...
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Common terms and phrases
art thou beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie bird Blackwood's Magazine blessed bonnie born Bouillabaisse brave breast breath bright brow Charles Lamb clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth England eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae Glenlogie glory grace grave green hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hill hope hour immortal John King kiss land Lars Porsena lassie light live look Lord lyre mind morning mortal native ne'er never night o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poems poet poetry praise published rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing sleep smile song SONNET sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice wave weep wild wind wings Yarrow young youth
Popular passages
Page 183 - The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes...
Page 32 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Page 188 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed 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; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 664 - or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 495 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those- trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 608 - Then, with my waking thoughts Bright with Thy praise, Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise; So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!
Page 61 - VIRTUE. 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. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My Music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal,...
Page 93 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas* is dead...
Page 630 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Page 289 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;-- Thou Child of Joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!