The Oxford Book of Victorian VerseArthur Quiller-Couch Clarendon Press, 1913 - 1023 pages |
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Page 18
... the ordinance of prayer . Vague ambages and witless ecstasies Avail not . Ere a voice to prayer be given The heart should rise on wings of love to Heaven . FITZ - GREENE HALLECK 1790-1867 29. On his Friend , RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.
... the ordinance of prayer . Vague ambages and witless ecstasies Avail not . Ere a voice to prayer be given The heart should rise on wings of love to Heaven . FITZ - GREENE HALLECK 1790-1867 29. On his Friend , RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.
Page 27
... bosom . - Take the wings Of morning , pierce the Barcan wilderness , Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon , and hears no sound 27 Save Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
... bosom . - Take the wings Of morning , pierce the Barcan wilderness , Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon , and hears no sound 27 Save Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Page 31
... wings Shook down their wasteful glitterings ; Her brinded neck high - arch'd in air Like a small rainbow faded there ; But brighter glow'd her plumy crown Mouldering to golden ashes down ; With fume of sweet woods , to the skies , Pure ...
... wings Shook down their wasteful glitterings ; Her brinded neck high - arch'd in air Like a small rainbow faded there ; But brighter glow'd her plumy crown Mouldering to golden ashes down ; With fume of sweet woods , to the skies , Pure ...
Page 37
... wing , And would ye partake of Harvest's joys , The corn must be sown in Spring . Fall gently and still , good corn , Lie warm in thy earthy bed ; And stand so yellow some morn , For beast and man must be fed . Old Earth is a pleasure ...
... wing , And would ye partake of Harvest's joys , The corn must be sown in Spring . Fall gently and still , good corn , Lie warm in thy earthy bed ; And stand so yellow some morn , For beast and man must be fed . Old Earth is a pleasure ...
Page 39
... wing , And cons by fits and bits her evening trill . Lovers might sit on such a morn as this An hour together , looking at the sky , Nor dare to break the silence with a kiss , Long listening for the signal of a sigh ; And the sweet Nun ...
... wing , And cons by fits and bits her evening trill . Lovers might sit on such a morn as this An hour together , looking at the sky , Nor dare to break the silence with a kiss , Long listening for the signal of a sigh ; And the sweet Nun ...
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Common terms and phrases
Aghadoe Amy Levy Annabel Lee beauty bel ami beneath bird blow blue Bosphorus Bouillabaisse breast breath bright Camelot cold dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fear feet flame Flannan Isle flowers glory gold golden gone grass green grey hair hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour Judas Iscariot Karaman kiss Lady of Shalott land leaves light lips live look look'd Lord Luthany MELEAGER Moira O'Neill moon morning neath never night o'er once pale pass'd rose round sang seem'd shadows shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound Spring stag stars stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro Tirawley tree turn'd voice vrom waves weep wild wind wings wood young youth
Popular passages
Page 105 - If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame. They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
Page 207 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 51 - 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 328 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
Page 174 - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. / was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my ANNABEL LEE — .With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea...
Page 175 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Anabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 330 - MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on.
Page 286 - I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past.
Page 370 - The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Page 232 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.