The Poets of the Nineteenth Century, 1808±Ç |
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arms beam beauty beneath bird blue breath bright brow close cloud dark dead dear death deep delight DEN BOSCH dread dream early earth face fair fall father fear feel feet flowers gaze gentle grave green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour land leaves light living lonely look mind morning mother never night o'er once passing pride pure rest rise rocks rose round Save scene seem'd seen shade shadow shines shore side sigh sight silent sits sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring stood stream summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought trees Twas voice waters wave wild winds wings wood young youth
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137 ÆäÀÌÁö - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
162 ÆäÀÌÁö - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, , Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...
132 ÆäÀÌÁö - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
180 ÆäÀÌÁö - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormv winds do blow.
179 ÆäÀÌÁö - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow...
136 ÆäÀÌÁö - Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt mirth ! 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...
118 ÆäÀÌÁö - The last, the sole, the dearest link Between me and the eternal brink, Which bound me to my failing race, Was broken in this fatal place.
204 ÆäÀÌÁö - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
115 ÆäÀÌÁö - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay...
172 ÆäÀÌÁö - Lo !. the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah ! home let him speed — for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast, Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements...