A Dictionary of Quotations from English and American Poets: Based Upon Bohn's Edition Revised, Corrected, and Enlarged : Twelve Hundred Quotations Added from American Authors |
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Page 17
... gold ; Swift trouts , diversified with crimson stains , And pikes , the tyrants of the watery plains . 155 Give me mine angle ; we'll to the river there , My music playing far off , I will betray Tawny - finned fishes ; my bended hooks ...
... gold ; Swift trouts , diversified with crimson stains , And pikes , the tyrants of the watery plains . 155 Give me mine angle ; we'll to the river there , My music playing far off , I will betray Tawny - finned fishes ; my bended hooks ...
Page 18
... gold And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; Arm it in rags , a pigmy's straw doth pierce it . 166 Our purses shall be proud , our garments poor , For ' tis the mind that makes the body rich : And as the sun breaks through the ...
... gold And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; Arm it in rags , a pigmy's straw doth pierce it . 166 Our purses shall be proud , our garments poor , For ' tis the mind that makes the body rich : And as the sun breaks through the ...
Page 25
... gold , When August round her precious gifts is flinging ; Lo ! the crushed wain is slowly homeward rolled : The sunburnt reapers jocund lays are singing . 228 AURORA BOREALIS . Ruskin : The Months . The amber midnight smiles in dreams ...
... gold , When August round her precious gifts is flinging ; Lo ! the crushed wain is slowly homeward rolled : The sunburnt reapers jocund lays are singing . 228 AURORA BOREALIS . Ruskin : The Months . The amber midnight smiles in dreams ...
Page 27
... gold ; Then counts the rounds and ovals in the halls , The festoons , friezes , and the astragals : Tired with his tedious pomp , away I run , And skip o'er twenty pages to be gone . 247 Dryden : Art of Poetry . Canto i . Line 49 . I ...
... gold ; Then counts the rounds and ovals in the halls , The festoons , friezes , and the astragals : Tired with his tedious pomp , away I run , And skip o'er twenty pages to be gone . 247 Dryden : Art of Poetry . Canto i . Line 49 . I ...
Page 30
... gold . 268 Hood : Written in a vol . of Shakespeare , The melancholy days are come , the saddest of the year , Of wailing winds , and naked woods , and meadows brown and sear . 269 William Cullen Bryant : Death of the Flowers Glorious ...
... gold . 268 Hood : Written in a vol . of Shakespeare , The melancholy days are come , the saddest of the year , Of wailing winds , and naked woods , and meadows brown and sear . 269 William Cullen Bryant : Death of the Flowers Glorious ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty breath Butler Byron Cæsar Canto Churchill clouds Cowper dark death Don Juan doth Dream Dryden earth Epis eyes Fables fair fear Festus flowers fool George Eliot give glory gold Goldsmith grace grave grief Hamlet Harold hath heart heaven Henry Vaughan Henry VI Henry VIII honor hope hour Hudibras Jean Ingelow Joanna Baillie King Lear kiss light Line live Longfellow Lost Love of Fame Love's Macbeth Milton mind Moral Essays nature ne'er never Night Thoughts o'er Othello peace Pope Proverbial Phil R. H. Stoddard Richard Richard III Robert Browning Satire Seasons Shaks shine sigh silent sleep smile song Sonnet sorrow soul spirit stars sweet T. B. Aldrich tears Tennyson thee thine things Thomson thou art tongue truth Venice virtue Whittier William Cullen Bryant wind wise words Young
Popular passages
Page 180 - WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night. And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.
Page 6 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Page 339 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Page 157 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Page 525 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 110 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods...
Page 7 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Page 440 - All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Page 619 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Page 252 - IT must be so — Plato, thou reason'st well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.