The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageFrancis Turner Palgrave Macmillan, 1891 - 381 pages |
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... hope , may be found by many a lifelong fountain of innocent and exalted pleasure ; a source of animation to friends when they meet ; and able to sweeten solitude itself with best society , -with the companionship of the wise and the ...
... hope , may be found by many a lifelong fountain of innocent and exalted pleasure ; a source of animation to friends when they meet ; and able to sweeten solitude itself with best society , -with the companionship of the wise and the ...
Page 10
... hope of orphans , and unfather'd fruit ; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee , And , thou away , the very birds are mute ; Or if they sing , ' tis with so dull a cheer , That leaves look pale , dreading the winter's near . W ...
... hope of orphans , and unfather'd fruit ; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee , And , thou away , the very birds are mute ; Or if they sing , ' tis with so dull a cheer , That leaves look pale , dreading the winter's near . W ...
Page 25
... hope , my verse shall stand Praising Thy worth , despite his cruel hand . W. Shakespeare XLII Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing , And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ...
... hope , my verse shall stand Praising Thy worth , despite his cruel hand . W. Shakespeare XLII Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing , And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ...
Page 66
... hope , He wove a net of such a scope That Charles himself might chase To Carisbrook's narrow case , That thence the Royal actor borne The tragic scaffold might adorn : While round the arméd bands Did clap their bloody hands . He nothing ...
... hope , He wove a net of such a scope That Charles himself might chase To Carisbrook's narrow case , That thence the Royal actor borne The tragic scaffold might adorn : While round the arméd bands Did clap their bloody hands . He nothing ...
Page 70
... hope to find , And think to burst out into sudden blaze , Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin - spun life . But not the praise ' Phoebus replied , and touch'd my trembling ears ; 6 Fame is no plant that ...
... hope to find , And think to burst out into sudden blaze , Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin - spun life . But not the praise ' Phoebus replied , and touch'd my trembling ears ; 6 Fame is no plant that ...
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Common terms and phrases
Arethuse beauty beneath birds bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair Fancy fear flowers frae FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE gentle glory golden Gray green H. F. Lyte happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill kiss leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's Lycidas lyre LYRICAL maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poem Poetry poets rose round seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly waves weep white-thorn wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 208 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 332 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 77 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May; Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Page 308 - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
Page 12 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Page 287 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 280 - Darkling I listen ; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I...
Page 276 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know,...
Page 4 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 20 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.