Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent |
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Page 25
... hour to live . * * [ Exit . Stand still , ye ever - moving spheres of heaven , That time may cease , and midnight never come . Fair Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but A year , a month , a ...
... hour to live . * * [ Exit . Stand still , ye ever - moving spheres of heaven , That time may cease , and midnight never come . Fair Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but A year , a month , a ...
Page 33
... hour asleep ! -O sleep ! O gentle sleep ! Nature's soft nurse , how have I frighted thee , That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down , And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather , sleep , liest thou in smoky cribs , Upon ...
... hour asleep ! -O sleep ! O gentle sleep ! Nature's soft nurse , how have I frighted thee , That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down , And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather , sleep , liest thou in smoky cribs , Upon ...
Page 48
... hour of birth : Upon my buried body lie Lightly , gentle earth ! Deformed , and wrinkled ; all that I can crave Is quiet in my grave . Such as live happy hold long life a jewel ; But to me thou art cruel If thou end not my tedious ...
... hour of birth : Upon my buried body lie Lightly , gentle earth ! Deformed , and wrinkled ; all that I can crave Is quiet in my grave . Such as live happy hold long life a jewel ; But to me thou art cruel If thou end not my tedious ...
Page 56
... hour or half's delight , And so to bid good - night ? ' Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth And lose you quite . • But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so ...
... hour or half's delight , And so to bid good - night ? ' Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth And lose you quite . • But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so ...
Page 59
... hour a step toward thee . At night when I betake to rest , Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life almost by eight hours ' sail Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale . Thus from the sun my bottom steers , And my day's compass ...
... hour a step toward thee . At night when I betake to rest , Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life almost by eight hours ' sail Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale . Thus from the sun my bottom steers , And my day's compass ...
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Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent No preview available - 2018 |
Common terms and phrases
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
Popular passages
Page 99 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Page 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Page 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Page 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Page 290 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Page 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Page 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Page 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.