Prose and Verse, Volumes 1-2Wiley and Putnam, 1845 - English literature |
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Page 47
... become poetical , prosaical , nonsensical , lack - a - daisical , and perhaps even melo- dramatical for its sake . Numberless were the desk - quakes , the ink - spouts , the book - bolts , the LITERARY REMINISCENCES . 47.
... become poetical , prosaical , nonsensical , lack - a - daisical , and perhaps even melo- dramatical for its sake . Numberless were the desk - quakes , the ink - spouts , the book - bolts , the LITERARY REMINISCENCES . 47.
Page 50
... become me to set forth my own domestic or social virtues , or to hint what sort of gap my loss would make in society - still less would it consist with modesty to compare myself with a favorite actor — but as a mere human being I throw ...
... become me to set forth my own domestic or social virtues , or to hint what sort of gap my loss would make in society - still less would it consist with modesty to compare myself with a favorite actor — but as a mere human being I throw ...
Page 53
... become importu- nate in my thoughts , and acquire , by morbid exaggeration , an undue prominence and importance , what remedy then so infalli- ble as to mount to my solitary seat in the look - out , and thence gaze awhile across the ...
... become importu- nate in my thoughts , and acquire , by morbid exaggeration , an undue prominence and importance , what remedy then so infalli- ble as to mount to my solitary seat in the look - out , and thence gaze awhile across the ...
Page 70
... become very Old Baily counts - that haunt my con- science . The most numerous of these crimes relate to letters that would not , could not , or at least did not answer . Others refer to the receipt of books , and , as an example of ...
... become very Old Baily counts - that haunt my con- science . The most numerous of these crimes relate to letters that would not , could not , or at least did not answer . Others refer to the receipt of books , and , as an example of ...
Page 78
... become my neighbor , and in a few days called again , to ask me to tea , " to meet Wordsworth . ' In spite of any idle jests to the contrary , the name had a spell in it that drew me to Colebrooke Cottage * with more alacrity † than ...
... become my neighbor , and in a few days called again , to ask me to tea , " to meet Wordsworth . ' In spite of any idle jests to the contrary , the name had a spell in it that drew me to Colebrooke Cottage * with more alacrity † than ...
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Popular passages
Page 34 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky. It was a childish ignorance, — But now 'tis little joy: To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy ! THOMAS HOOD.
Page 34 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! T remember.
Page 26 - Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep : Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep.
Page 26 - All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime; With one besetting horrid hint That racked me all the time — A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime — "One stern tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave! Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave — Still urging me to go and see The dead man in his grave!
Page 23 - And, long since then, of bloody men Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod...
Page 210 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 209 - The wounds I might have healed ! The human sorrow and smart ! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part : But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart...
Page 134 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted ! PART III.
Page 180 - Ines" had always, for me, an inexpressible charm: O saw ye not fair Ines! She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest...