The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageFrancis Turner Palgrave Macmillan, 1891 - 381 pages |
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Page 3
... night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light . -This is that happy morn , That day , long - wished day Of all my life so dark , ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates my hopes betray ) , Which , purely white ...
... night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light . -This is that happy morn , That day , long - wished day Of all my life so dark , ( If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates my hopes betray ) , Which , purely white ...
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... night doth take away , Death's second self , that seals up all in rest : In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire , That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death - bed whereon it must expire , Consumed with that which it was ...
... night doth take away , Death's second self , that seals up all in rest : In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire , That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death - bed whereon it must expire , Consumed with that which it was ...
Page 24
... night , And weep afresh love's long - since - cancell'd woe , And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight . Then can I grieve at grievances foregone , And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore - bemoanéd moan ...
... night , And weep afresh love's long - since - cancell'd woe , And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight . Then can I grieve at grievances foregone , And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore - bemoanéd moan ...
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... Night , Brother to Death , in silent darkness born , Relieve my languish , and restore the light ; With dark forgetting of my care return . And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventured youth : Let waking ...
... Night , Brother to Death , in silent darkness born , Relieve my languish , and restore the light ; With dark forgetting of my care return . And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventured youth : Let waking ...
Page 30
... night And she made all of light , Yet follow thy fair sun , unhappy shadow ! Follow her , whose light thy light depriveth ! Though here thou liv'st disgraced , And she in heaven is placed , Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth ...
... night And she made all of light , Yet follow thy fair sun , unhappy shadow ! Follow her , whose light thy light depriveth ! Though here thou liv'st disgraced , And she in heaven is placed , Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth ...
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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 stream 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.