The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One VolumeJohn Grigg, 1831 - 607 pages |
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Page 17
... past employ , Memory , bosom - spring of joy . THE SIGH . WHEN Youth his faery reign began Ere sorrow had proclaim'd me man ; While Peace the present hour beguiled , And all the lovely prospect smiled ; Then , Mary ! ' mid my lightsome ...
... past employ , Memory , bosom - spring of joy . THE SIGH . WHEN Youth his faery reign began Ere sorrow had proclaim'd me man ; While Peace the present hour beguiled , And all the lovely prospect smiled ; Then , Mary ! ' mid my lightsome ...
Page 18
... past delight recalls , What time the morning sun of Hope arose , And all was joy ; save when another's woes A transient gloom upon my soul imprest , Like passing clouds impictured on thy breast . Life's current then ran sparkling to the ...
... past delight recalls , What time the morning sun of Hope arose , And all was joy ; save when another's woes A transient gloom upon my soul imprest , Like passing clouds impictured on thy breast . Life's current then ran sparkling to the ...
Page 43
... past folly . Mute the sky - lark and forlorn , While she moults the firstling plumes , That had skimm'd the tender corn , Or the bean - field's odorous blooms : Soon with renovated wing Shall she dare a loftier flight , Upward to the ...
... past folly . Mute the sky - lark and forlorn , While she moults the firstling plumes , That had skimm'd the tender corn , Or the bean - field's odorous blooms : Soon with renovated wing Shall she dare a loftier flight , Upward to the ...
Page 51
... past Youth , and Manhood come in vain , And Genius given , and knowledge won in vain ; And all which I had cull'd in wood - walks wild , And all which patient toil had rear'd , and all , Commune with thee had open'd out - but flowers ...
... past Youth , and Manhood come in vain , And Genius given , and knowledge won in vain ; And all which I had cull'd in wood - walks wild , And all which patient toil had rear'd , and all , Commune with thee had open'd out - but flowers ...
Page 61
... past , What happy , and what mournful hours , since last I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast , Numbering its light leaps ! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood , that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ...
... past , What happy , and what mournful hours , since last I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast , Numbering its light leaps ! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood , that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ...
Other editions - View all
The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume Samuel Taylor Coleridge No preview available - 2012 |
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AHASUERUS ALHADRA ALVAR arms art thou BATHORY BEATRICE beneath BETHLEN blood breath bright BUTLER calm cavern CENCI child clouds COUNTESS curse CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dare dark dead dear death deep DEMOGORGON doth dream earth Egra EMERICK eyes fair faith father fear feel flowers gaze gentle GLYCINE hast hath hear heard heart Heaven hope hour human ILLO ISIDORE ISOLANI lady LASKA light lips living look look'd Lord MEPHISTOPHELES mighty moon mother mountains never night o'er OCTAVIO ORDONIO pale PANTHEA poison'd PROMETHEUS QUESTENBERG RAAB KIUPRILI Robespierre round SAROLTA SCENE seem'd SEMICHORUS shadow silent SILENUS slaves sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet tears tempest TERESA TERTSKY thee THEKLA thine things thou art thought throne truth Twas tyrant VALDEZ voice WALLENSTEIN waves weep wild wind wings words
Popular passages
Page 458 - I bear light shades for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again 1 dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 460 - 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, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow The world should listen then — as I am listening now.
Page 72 - But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made ; Its path was not upon the sea In ripple or in shade.
Page 459 - I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist earth was laughing below.
Page 75 - There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Page 459 - That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...
Page 453 - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them ! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves...
Page 453 - ODE TO THE WEST WIND O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow...
Page 460 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields or waves or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee; Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Page 459 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea...