William Wordsworth: A BiographyCash, 1856 - 508 sider |
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Side iv
... seem too high . I regard him as the Third English Poet , and eminently the Poet of our Age . If to Milton we may assign height , and to Shakspeare breadth , to Words- worth more than either - we must assign depth . If Milton is the ...
... seem too high . I regard him as the Third English Poet , and eminently the Poet of our Age . If to Milton we may assign height , and to Shakspeare breadth , to Words- worth more than either - we must assign depth . If Milton is the ...
Side v
... seem the case in the analysis of the elements of tragic genius suggested by poems so short but so full and so vital as those of Lao- damia and Dion . And now , dearest of friends , and severest of critics , affectionately , Farewell ...
... seem the case in the analysis of the elements of tragic genius suggested by poems so short but so full and so vital as those of Lao- damia and Dion . And now , dearest of friends , and severest of critics , affectionately , Farewell ...
Side 3
... seems as if he lived only to record in verse his own experiences , emotions , and volitions ; and hence equally with the poets to whom reference has been made it be said he does not need a biographer ; then let us hope that we may not ...
... seems as if he lived only to record in verse his own experiences , emotions , and volitions ; and hence equally with the poets to whom reference has been made it be said he does not need a biographer ; then let us hope that we may not ...
Side 6
... seems to transcend its morality , -in a few exceptional instances it may be true that our ideal does not suffer by the nearness of our approach , and Johnson's is one . Wordsworth himself once remarked to the writer of this volume that ...
... seems to transcend its morality , -in a few exceptional instances it may be true that our ideal does not suffer by the nearness of our approach , and Johnson's is one . Wordsworth himself once remarked to the writer of this volume that ...
Side 7
... seem must have been a Poet too , capable of uttering the Weird , or Word , in a thrilling or worthy manner , and the gift which made the patriarch of the race remarkable descended on the son through the long course of generations . But ...
... seem must have been a Poet too , capable of uttering the Weird , or Word , in a thrilling or worthy manner , and the gift which made the patriarch of the race remarkable descended on the son through the long course of generations . But ...
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admiration ancient Artist beautiful beheld beneath Bishopsgate Bishopsgate Street character charm cloth clouds Coleridge colours deep delight Drama ELIHU BURRITT emotions faith fancy feel felt forms FREDERICK G genius Goethe Grasmere Grecian Hartley Coleridge hath Hawkshead heart heaven Helvellyn Henry Alford hills homage human impressions interest Jeffrey lake Land of Wordsworth Laodamia light live lofty look Lyrical Ballads mental mighty Milton mind moral mountain nature never objects painting passed passion perhaps Peter Bell poems Poet Poet's poetry portrait Quincey racter reader ROBERT SOUTHEY rock round Rydal Rylstone SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE scenery Schiller seems seen sense Sonnets sorrow soul sound Southey spirit sublime sympathy thee things thou thought tion true truth utterance verse village voice walk WATER LILY whole wild William Wordsworth Windermere winds woman wonderful words writings youth
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Side 379 - Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Side 209 - Dee." They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee!
Side 377 - Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Side 377 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Side 176 - The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city — boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth, Far sinking into splendour — without end ! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted ; here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed ; there, towers begirt With battlements...
Side 16 - So through the darkness and the cold we flew, and not a voice was idle: with the din smitten, the precipices rang aloud; the leafless trees and every icy crag tinkled like iron; while far distant hills into the tumult sent an alien sound of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west the orange sky of evening died away.
Side 17 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels. Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!
Side 340 - ... During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbours, our conversations turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colours of imagination.
Side 359 - Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Side 211 - And then an open field they crossed : The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none ! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.