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achievement ballad beauty become bird born bring charm clear composed critics dear death deep earth English experience expression eyes fair father feeling fire five flowers fresh friends genius gift give gods green Hamad hand happy hast heard heart heaven Hood hour human imagination impulse Italy Keats knew later leaves light lines literature lived lyric master mind nature never night once passion perfect period poems poet poetic poetry popular published qualities rarely Rhaicos rich rise Robin Robin Hood seems sense Shakespeare Shelley sight singing song sonnets soul sound speak spirit spring story striking sweet tell thee things thou thought tion touch tree true verse voice write written wrote young
Page 73 - To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened...
Page 42 - What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a Poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Page 41 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see — we feel that it is there.
Page 208 - Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Page 206 - Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
Page 193 - 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.
Page 102 - Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Page 207 - My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads...
Page 205 - Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but...
Page 44 - Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Or sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.