The Minor Poems of William Cowper of the Inner TempleJ. Sharpe, 1818 - 216 pages |
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Page 38
... The charms of the late - blowing rose Seem graced with a livelier hue , And the winter of sorrow best shows The truth of a friend such as you . TO THE NIGHTINGALE . WHICH THE AUTHOR HEARD SING ON 38 The Winter Nosegay.
... The charms of the late - blowing rose Seem graced with a livelier hue , And the winter of sorrow best shows The truth of a friend such as you . TO THE NIGHTINGALE . WHICH THE AUTHOR HEARD SING ON 38 The Winter Nosegay.
Page 39
... Sing'st thou , sweet Philomel , to me , For that I also long Have practised in the groves like thee , Though not like thee in song ? Or sing'st thou rather under force Of some divine command , Commission'd to presage a course Of happier ...
... Sing'st thou , sweet Philomel , to me , For that I also long Have practised in the groves like thee , Though not like thee in song ? Or sing'st thou rather under force Of some divine command , Commission'd to presage a course Of happier ...
Page 40
... sing in the leaves , Nor Ouse in his bosom their image receives . Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view Of my favourite field , and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid , And the tree is my ...
... sing in the leaves , Nor Ouse in his bosom their image receives . Twelve years have elapsed since I last took a view Of my favourite field , and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid , And the tree is my ...
Page 52
... sings . But thou hast little need . There is a book By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light , On which the eyes of God not rarely look , A chronicle of actions just and bright ; There all thy deeds , my faithful Mary , shine , And ...
... sings . But thou hast little need . There is a book By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light , On which the eyes of God not rarely look , A chronicle of actions just and bright ; There all thy deeds , my faithful Mary , shine , And ...
Page 67
... sing of the splendour of mine . TO MY COUSIN , ANNE BODHAM , ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE , MADE BY HERSELF . 1793 . My gentle Anne , whom heretofore , When I was young , and thou no more Than plaything for a nurse , I danced ...
... sing of the splendour of mine . TO MY COUSIN , ANNE BODHAM , ON RECEIVING FROM HER A NETWORK PURSE , MADE BY HERSELF . 1793 . My gentle Anne , whom heretofore , When I was young , and thou no more Than plaything for a nurse , I danced ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALEXANDEr selkirk Aspasio beneath bird boast bosom calender call'd Catharina charms COWPER cried dæmons dear death declension delight design'd divine dream dwell e'en earth Edmonton eyes fear feel flew flowers form'd friendship GEORGE ROMNEY Gilpin grace grief hear heard heart Heaven honour horse John Gilpin JOHN SHARPE JOSEPH HILL knew LADY learn'd length life's light live Mary mind MINOR POEMS Muses ne'er neighbour never night numbers nymph o'er once pass'd peace perhaps pine-apples pleasure poet poet's PORTBURY praise prove rest RICHARD WESTALL rose scene seem'd shine shore side sight sing skies smile song SONNET soon sorrow soul sound Stamp'd storm sweet tear tell thee theme thine Thou hast thought THRACIAN Throckmorton toil treasure truth Twas verse voice waste Whate'er WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM HAYLEY wind wish wonder youth
Popular passages
Page 91 - Away went hat and wig; He little dreamt when he set out, Of running such a rig. The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung ; A bottle swinging at each side, As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, Well done!
Page 54 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 17 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies.
Page 92 - Were shatter'd at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he...
Page 16 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Page 95 - Ah ! luckless speech and bootless boast ! For which he paid full dear ; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear. Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And gallop'd off with all his might, As he had done before.
Page 15 - Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid...
Page 90 - His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, He manfully did throw. Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed. But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which gall'd him in his seat. So,
Page 36 - He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glow-worm by his spark; So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent — Did you admire my lamp...
Page 53 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more ; My Mary...