The Eclectic Review, 14±Ç;32±Ç

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Samuel Greatheed, Daniel Parken, Theophilus Williams, Josiah Conder, Thomas Price, Jonathan Edwards Ryland, Edwin Paxton Hood
1820

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200 ÆäÀÌÁö - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind...
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint : She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven : Porphyro grew faint : She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - She will bring thee, all together, All delights of summer weather; All the buds and bells of May, From dewy sward or thorny spray; All the heaped Autumn's wealth, With a still, mysterious stealth: She will mix these pleasures up Like three fit wines in a cup...
285 ÆäÀÌÁö - The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together.
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - The world can never give The bliss for which we sigh ; 'Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die.
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced To wake into a slumberous tenderness; Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept, Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept, And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years ; And all that life is love. 4 There is a death whose pang Outlasts the fleeting breath ; O what eternal horrors hang Around
200 ÆäÀÌÁö - She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue, Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue ; Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard, Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd ; And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed, Dissolved, or brighter shone, or interwreathed Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries...

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