 | George William McClelland - English Literature (selections: Extracts, Etc.) - 1925 - 1180 pages
...And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent " and such is literally the character of it. Coleridge remarks very pertinently ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. 633 Oh, could... | |
 | Arthur Beatty - English poetry - 1928 - 582 pages
...And though the eye may sparkle stilly 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight...turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, vbut worn and grey beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as... | |
 | M. H. Abrams - Literary Criticism - 1975 - 494 pages
...Byron's causes a comic incongruity between his movement and his matter: Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight...former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the min'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, all worn and grey beneath. And a poem like... | |
 | George Gordon Byron - Poetry - 1994 - 884 pages
...distract the breast, Through midnight boors that yield no more their former hope of rest ; "Fis bat 9= bnt worn and grey beneath. Oh coold I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as I... | |
 | Robert Johnston - Religion - 118 pages
...embedded in the human heart. Byron portrays it in these lines: "Though wit may flash from fluent lip, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours...former hope of rest; Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath!" Contrast this... | |
 | Frances Mayes - Language Arts & Disciplines - 2001 - 548 pages
...And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight...former hope of rest; Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh could I feel... | |
 | Bruce Haley - Literary Criticism - 2003 - 322 pages
...soul," wishing he could "weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished scene," his words are "but as ivyleaves around the ruin'd turret wreath,/ All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath." Mourner and mourned, he becomes his own monument. FIGURE 9. Richard Westmacott. Monument... | |
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Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. 
