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Alfred Tennyson auld auld lang syne beauty bells beneath bird breast breath bright Camelot charm dark dead dear death deep door doth dream earth evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fear flame flowers frae glory golden gray hame hand happy hast hath hear heard heart Heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hope hour Kilmeny king King Arthur Lady of Shalott land laugh leaves light lilac-time lips live look Lord lyre mind moon morning never night o'er old Kentucky home once pain pleasure Ralph Waldo Emerson rose round Shalott shore sigh silent sing sinks low Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars sweet tears thee there's thine things thou art thought toil voice wander weary whisper wild wind wine wings youth
Page 2903 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 2977 - 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 2994 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down ; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much...
Page 2977 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness!* Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
Page 3018 - I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years ; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind ; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed hopes I sped ; And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after. But with unhurrying chase, 10 And unperturbed pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, They beat — and a Voice beat More instant than the Feet...
Page 3053 - O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And...
Page 3092 - mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded 'scutcheon blushed with blood of queens and kings. 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 seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven. Porphyro grew faint : She knelt, so pure...
Page 2926 - FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : When nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead. Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, In order to their stations leap, And Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony This universal frame began : From harmony to harmony, Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man.
Page 2771 - The Moving Finger writes ; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Page 2887 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that — That sense and worth o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a