PoemsW. Pickering, 1838 - 359 من الصفحات |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
bard beauty beneath bliss bosom bowers breath bright brow calm charms cheek dear death deep divine doth dread dream dwell E'en e'er earth earthly eyes Faerie Queene fair Fairy faith fancy Fancy's fear feel fond forget friends gentle grace grave grief grieve Guenever haply hath Heaven Herne Bay hope hopes and fears Hymen idlesse King Arthur lady life's lone look look'd love's maiden mirth mortal Muse ne'er never night o'er once pain pale pass'd phantasy pleasant poet's poets poor pure rapture rhyme rich rove scarce Scottish lassie seem'd Sir Launfal sleep smiles song SONNET soothe sorrow soul spirit sprites strange sweet sympathy tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thy dreams thy heart toil trump of doom twas Twill vext visions voice wandering wast wayward ween wild witch young youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 43 - Are numbered with the secret things which God will not reveal. But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest, Where other blessed infants be, on their Saviour's loving breast.
الصفحة 259 - In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care.
الصفحة 41 - Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years like me, A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be ; And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow, I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now.
الصفحة 234 - But let it nurse its humble faith and uncomplaining love ; — If these, preserved for patient years, at last avail me not, Forget me then ; — but ne'er believe that thou canst be forgot ! CHARLES WOLFE.
الصفحة 43 - Whate'er befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease ; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain peace. It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss may sever, But, if our poor faith fail not, he must be ours for ever.
الصفحة 42 - When he walks with me, the country folk, Who pass us in the street, Will shout for joy. and bless my boy, He looks so mild and sweet. A playfellow is he to all.
الصفحة 187 - My boyish days are nearly gone, — My breast is not unsullied now ; And worldly cares and woes will soon Cut their deep furrows on my brow, — And life will take a darker hue From ills my brother never knew ; And I have made me bosom friends, And...
الصفحة 184 - I stood not by thy fev'rish bed, I look'd not on thy glazing eye, Nor gently lull'd thy aching head, Nor view'd thy dying agony : I felt not what my parents felt, The doubt — the terror — the distress — Nor vainly for my brother knelt — My soul was spared that wretchedness. One sentence told me, in a breath, My brother's illness — and his death ! And days of mourning glided by, And brought me back my gaiety ; For soon in childhood's wayward heart Doth crush'd affection cease to smart.
الصفحة 43 - God hath told me this) that he is now at rest, Where other blessed infants be, on their Saviour's loving breast. I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh, But his sleep is blessed with endless dreams of joy for ever fresh.
الصفحة 185 - I join'd the sportive crowd Of boyish playmates, wild and loud ; I learnt to view with careless eye My sable garb of misery ; No more I wept my brother's lot, His image was almost forgot ; And ev'ry deeper shade of pain Had vanish'd from my soul again.