The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth CenturyCarey & Hart, 1845 - 504 sider |
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Side 246
... feel thou art , I feel it at my beating heart , Those tremors both of soul and sense Awoke by infant innocence ! Though dear the forms by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love , Thoughts from the living world intrud Even on ...
... feel thou art , I feel it at my beating heart , Those tremors both of soul and sense Awoke by infant innocence ! Though dear the forms by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love , Thoughts from the living world intrud Even on ...
Side 426
... feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God giveth them to feel ; Let them prove their inward souls against the notion That they live in you , or under you , O wheels ! Still , all day , the iron wheels go onward , As if ...
... feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God giveth them to feel ; Let them prove their inward souls against the notion That they live in you , or under you , O wheels ! Still , all day , the iron wheels go onward , As if ...
Side 489
... feel it gently pressing down our arm , The arm we raised to do for truth such wonders ; We feel it softly bearing on our side ; We feel it touch and thrill us through the body ; And we are fools , and there's an end of us . THE END OF ...
... feel it gently pressing down our arm , The arm we raised to do for truth such wonders ; We feel it softly bearing on our side ; We feel it touch and thrill us through the body ; And we are fools , and there's an end of us . THE END OF ...
Indhold
GEORGE CRABBE | 17 |
JOANNA BAILLIE | 73 |
The Widow to her HourGlass | 80 |
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art thou beauty beneath bird blood bosom bower breast breath bright brow calm Cambridge town Catiline cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dream earth eyes fair falchion fear feel flowers gaze gentle gleam glory grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour John of Procida Lady of Shalott Lars Porsena LEIGH HUNT life's light lips living lone look look'd Lord LORD BYRON lyre mind morning mountain ne'er never night o'er Oriana pale pass'd poems poet rill rose round Samian wine seem'd shade shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought tomb tree turn'd Twas vex'd voice waves weary weep wild wind wings youth