Lyrical Ballads,: With Other Poems. In Two Volumes, Volume 1T.N. Longman and O. Rees, Paternoster-Row, 1800 |
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Page 26
... prayer , nor told a bead , But knew the names of birds , and mocked their notes , And whistled , as he were a bird himself : And all the autumn ' twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers , and to plant them With earth and ...
... prayer , nor told a bead , But knew the names of birds , and mocked their notes , And whistled , as he were a bird himself : And all the autumn ' twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers , and to plant them With earth and ...
Page 27
... pray With holy men , nor in a holy place— But yet his speech , it was so soft and sweet , The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him . And once , as by the north side of the Chapel They stood together , chained in deep discourse ...
... pray With holy men , nor in a holy place— But yet his speech , it was so soft and sweet , The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him . And once , as by the north side of the Chapel They stood together , chained in deep discourse ...
Page 35
... pray'd To God that is the judge of all . She pray'd , her wither'd hand uprearing , . While Harry held her by the arm- " God ! who art never out of hearing , may he never more be warm ! " The cold , cold moon above her head , Thus on ...
... pray'd To God that is the judge of all . She pray'd , her wither'd hand uprearing , . While Harry held her by the arm- " God ! who art never out of hearing , may he never more be warm ! " The cold , cold moon above her head , Thus on ...
Page 37
... himself he mutters , " Poor Harry Gill is very cold . " A - bed or up , by night or day ; His teeth they chatter , chatter still . Now think , ye farmers all , I pray , Qf Goody Blake and Harry Gill THE THORN . I. There is a thorn ; it 37 .
... himself he mutters , " Poor Harry Gill is very cold . " A - bed or up , by night or day ; His teeth they chatter , chatter still . Now think , ye farmers all , I pray , Qf Goody Blake and Harry Gill THE THORN . I. There is a thorn ; it 37 .
Page 55
... pray you tell ? " She answered , " Seven are we , " And two of us at Conway dwell , " And two are gone to sea . " Two of us in the church - yard lie , My sister and my brother , " And in the church - yard cottage , I Dwell near them ...
... pray you tell ? " She answered , " Seven are we , " And two of us at Conway dwell , " And two are gone to sea . " Two of us in the church - yard lie , My sister and my brother , " And in the church - yard cottage , I Dwell near them ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albatross ANCIENT MARINER babe beauty Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze bright chatter child composition dead dear door dreadful fair father fear feelings friends Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart Hermit high crag hill of moss hope idiot boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist limbs Liswyn farm look look'd Martha Ray metre mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd nature never night numbers o'er oh misery old Susan owlets pain passion pleasure Poems Poet poetic diction Poetry pond pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray prose Quoth Reader sails Ship silent SIMON LEE song soul spirit stanza stars Stephen Hill stood Susan Gale sweet tale tautology tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro tion Twas verse voice wedding-guest weep wherefore wild wind wood words Young Harry
Popular passages
Page 198 - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay ! Farewell, farewell!
Page 172 - A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
Page 208 - My dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear dear Sister! and this prayer I make Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lend From joy to joy...
Page 209 - Into a sober pleasure ; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies...
Page 204 - In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro...
Page 2 - Nor less I deem that there are powers Which of themselves our minds impress ; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
Page 55 - Her eyes were fair, and very fair : Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they ? I pray you tell.
Page 189 - The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less That stands above the rock: The moonlight...
Page 4 - The sun above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow, Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife, Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music; on my life There's more of wisdom in it. And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
Page 141 - And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade— There came and look'd him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!