The World's Best Poetry ...John Vance Cheney, Sir Charles G. D. Roberts, Charles Francis Richardson, Francis Hovey Stoddard, John Raymond Howard J. D. Morris, 1904 - English poetry |
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Page 1
... hath my absence been T. MAY . From thee , the pleasure of the fleeting year ! What freezings have I felt , what dark days seen ! What old December's bareness everywhere . Sonnet XCVII . SHAKESPEARE . Days of absence , sad and dreary ...
... hath my absence been T. MAY . From thee , the pleasure of the fleeting year ! What freezings have I felt , what dark days seen ! What old December's bareness everywhere . Sonnet XCVII . SHAKESPEARE . Days of absence , sad and dreary ...
Page 7
... Hath left my heart a withered leaf . Time and change can do no more . R. H. HORNE . I wish thy lot , now bad , still worse , my friend , For when at worst , they say , things always mend . To a Friend in Distress . DR . J. OWEN . The ...
... Hath left my heart a withered leaf . Time and change can do no more . R. H. HORNE . I wish thy lot , now bad , still worse , my friend , For when at worst , they say , things always mend . To a Friend in Distress . DR . J. OWEN . The ...
Page 10
... hath a pleasant seat : the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses . BANQUO . The heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty , frieze , Buttress , nor coigne of vantage , but this bird Hath made his pendent ...
... hath a pleasant seat : the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses . BANQUO . The heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty , frieze , Buttress , nor coigne of vantage , but this bird Hath made his pendent ...
Page 26
... hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery , Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war - hounds rouse them from their lair , And gnash their fangs , loud yelling for the prey ! All ...
... hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery , Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war - hounds rouse them from their lair , And gnash their fangs , loud yelling for the prey ! All ...
Page 41
... hath a tear for pity , and a hand Open as day for melting charity . King Henry IV . , Pt . II . Act iv . Sc . 4 . SHAKESPEARE . O chime of sweet Saint Charity , Peal soon that Easter morn When Christ for all shall risen be , And in all ...
... hath a tear for pity , and a hand Open as day for melting charity . King Henry IV . , Pt . II . Act iv . Sc . 4 . SHAKESPEARE . O chime of sweet Saint Charity , Peal soon that Easter morn When Christ for all shall risen be , And in all ...
Common terms and phrases
A. C. Swinburne Anonymous beauty Boston Brooks C. S. Calverley Canto Childe Harold Clergyman clouds COWPER dear Death Don Juan doth Dramatist Dream DRYDEN earth England Epistle Essay fair Fairies faith Fame Farewell flower fools Friendship grave H. W. LONGFELLOW Hamlet hath heart Heaven HOUGHTON Hudibras Hymn Ireland J. G. Whittier J. R. LOWELL JOHN Journalist Julius Cæsar King Henry King Richard Lady land light live LORD BYRON Macbeth Merchant of Venice MIFFLIN MILTON MOORE morning ne'er never Night Thoughts o'er P. B. SHELLEY P. J. BAILEY Paradise Lost poet poetry POPE Publishers rose S. T. Coleridge Scotland SHAKESPEARE sleep Song Sonnet soul Summer sweet T. B. Aldrich TENNYSON thee things THOMAS THOMSON thou Trans Translation truth viii W. C. Bryant WILLIAM wind WORDSWORTH York YOUNG
Popular passages
Page 5 - Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace was seated on this brow ; Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 51 - Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
Page lix - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 63 - Dis's wagon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Page 97 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law, but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence.
Page 15 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and, I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
Page 118 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Page 116 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Page 95 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Page lii - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?