Treasury of Minor British Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes |
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Page 23
... hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever . XXIII ANON . LOVE THE sea hath many thousand sands , The sunne hath motes as many , The skie is full of starres - and love As full of woes as any ; Believe me that doe knowe the ...
... hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever . XXIII ANON . LOVE THE sea hath many thousand sands , The sunne hath motes as many , The skie is full of starres - and love As full of woes as any ; Believe me that doe knowe the ...
Page 31
... , Ye pretty wantons warble . O fly , make hast , see , see , she falles Into a pretty slumber , Sing round about her rosie bed That waking she may wonder , Say to her , ' tis her lover true , OF MINOR british POETRY 31.
... , Ye pretty wantons warble . O fly , make hast , see , see , she falles Into a pretty slumber , Sing round about her rosie bed That waking she may wonder , Say to her , ' tis her lover true , OF MINOR british POETRY 31.
Page 48
... hast thou golden slumbers : O sweet content ! Art thou rich , yet is thy minde perplexed : O punishment ! Dost thou laugh to see how fooles are vexed To add to golden numbers , golden numbers : O sweet content ! Worke apace , apace ...
... hast thou golden slumbers : O sweet content ! Art thou rich , yet is thy minde perplexed : O punishment ! Dost thou laugh to see how fooles are vexed To add to golden numbers , golden numbers : O sweet content ! Worke apace , apace ...
Page 60
... hast , as I Commanded thee , done blabbing , - Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing , - Stab at thee he that will , No stab the soul can kill ! SIR W. RALEIGH . LVII THE LULLABY OF A LOVER SING lullaby , as women doe ...
... hast , as I Commanded thee , done blabbing , - Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing , - Stab at thee he that will , No stab the soul can kill ! SIR W. RALEIGH . LVII THE LULLABY OF A LOVER SING lullaby , as women doe ...
Page 70
... hast made , Endless , knowe nor dayes nor yeares . In Thy Word , Lord , is my trust , To Thy mercies past I flye ; Though I am but clay and dust , Yet Thy grace can lift me highe . T. CAMPION . LXIX THE BURNING BABE As I in hoary ...
... hast made , Endless , knowe nor dayes nor yeares . In Thy Word , Lord , is my trust , To Thy mercies past I flye ; Though I am but clay and dust , Yet Thy grace can lift me highe . T. CAMPION . LXIX THE BURNING BABE As I in hoary ...
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Common terms and phrases
A. H. CLOUGH ANON Author beautiful Behave yoursel Ben Jonson birds blessed bliss blow breath bright C. S. Calverley Castara charming cloth dark dear death delight Demy 8vo died doth dreams earth edition Edward Arnold's List EMILY BRONTË England's Helicon English Epitaph ev'ry eyes F. W. BOURDILLON fair fear flowers frae give grace grave green hame happy hath heart heaven hope hour KIRK MUNROE kiss Lady life's light LLOYD MORGAN Lord Lord Houghton Love's lullaby MARY LEAPOR mind Motherwell ne'er never night numbers o'er pain pleasure poem poetry poets rose shine sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring stanzas sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought verses volume W. G. COLLINGWOOD W. S. LANDOR weep WINCHESTER COLLEGE wind Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 358 - AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
Page 236 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
Page 336 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
Page 87 - Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day; Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood; And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews.
Page 117 - They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear; It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the sun's remove.
Page 72 - When thou hast done, thou has not done, For I have more. Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won Others to sin, and made my sin their door? Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year or two, but wallowed in a score? *° When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.
Page 130 - The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the...
Page 50 - Life HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath; Who envies none that chance doth raise...
Page 47 - Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust, And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things. Grow rich in that which never taketh rust: Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings. Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be; Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
Page 354 - COLD in the earth — and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave ! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave...