Cowper & His PoetryG. G. Harrap, 1914 - 181 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 94 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in...
الصفحة 95 - Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on th
الصفحة 19 - I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own.
الصفحة 53 - The business of a poet," said Imlac, " is to examine, not the individual, but the species; to remark general properties and large appearances; he does not number the streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades in the verdure of the forest.
الصفحة 94 - tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright ;— He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen locks ; News from all nations lumbering at his back.
الصفحة 90 - Come, Evening, once again, season of peace ; Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, With matron step slow...
الصفحة 126 - Druid, hoary chief; every burning word he spoke full of rage, and full of grief: ' Princess ! if our aged eyes weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'tis because resentment ties all the terrors of our tongues.
الصفحة 18 - Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ! Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes.
الصفحة 33 - ... till eleven, we read either the Scripture, or the Sermons of some faithful preacher of those holy mysteries ; at eleven we attend Divine Service, which is performed here twice every day ; and from twelve to three we separate and amuse ourselves as we please. During that interval, I either read in my own apartment, or walk, or ride, or work in the garden. We seldom sit an hour after dinner, but, if the weather permits, adjourn to the garden, where, with Mrs. Unwin and her son, I have generally...
الصفحة 18 - THAT those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child; chase all thy fears away!