Lyrical Ballads,: With Other Poems. In Two Volumes, Volume 1T.N. Longman and O. Rees, Paternoster-Row, 1800 |
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Page xxvi
... tears " such as Angels weep , " but natural and human tears ; she can boast of no celestial Ichor that distinguishes her vital juices from those of prose ; the same human blood circulates through the veins of them both . If it be ...
... tears " such as Angels weep , " but natural and human tears ; she can boast of no celestial Ichor that distinguishes her vital juices from those of prose ; the same human blood circulates through the veins of them both . If it be ...
Page 15
... broad high - way , I met ; Along the broad high - way he came , His cheeks with tears were wet . Sturdy he seemed , though he was sad ; And in his arms a lamb he had . He saw me , and he turned aside , As 15 The Last of the Flock.
... broad high - way , I met ; Along the broad high - way he came , His cheeks with tears were wet . Sturdy he seemed , though he was sad ; And in his arms a lamb he had . He saw me , and he turned aside , As 15 The Last of the Flock.
Page 16
... tears away . I follow'd him , and said , 66 My friend " What ails you ? wherefore weep you so ? " " Shame on me , Sir ! this lusty lamb , He makes my tears to flow . To - day I fetched him from the rock k ; He is the last of all my ...
... tears away . I follow'd him , and said , 66 My friend " What ails you ? wherefore weep you so ? " " Shame on me , Sir ! this lusty lamb , He makes my tears to flow . To - day I fetched him from the rock k ; He is the last of all my ...
Page 23
... Till his eye streamed with tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know , that 23.
... Till his eye streamed with tears . In this deep vale He died , this seat his only monument . If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure , Stranger ! henceforth be warned ; and know , that 23.
Page 70
... tears that fell in showers , Glimmer'd our dear - loved home , alas ! no longer ours ! Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to different Fishermen , in parcels warked out by imaginary lines drawn from rock to rock ...
... tears that fell in showers , Glimmer'd our dear - loved home , alas ! no longer ours ! Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to different Fishermen , in parcels warked out by imaginary lines drawn from rock to rock ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albatross ANCIENT MARINER babe beauty Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze bright chatter child composition dead dear door dreadful fair father fear feelings friends Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart Hermit high crag hill of moss hope idiot boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist limbs Liswyn farm look look'd Martha Ray metre mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd nature never night numbers o'er oh misery old Susan owlets pain passion pleasure Poems Poet poetic diction Poetry pond pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray prose Quoth Reader sails Ship silent Simon Lee song soul spirit stanza stars Stephen Hill stood Susan Gale sweet tale tautology tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro tion Twas verse voice wedding-guest weep wherefore wild wind wood words Young Harry
Popular passages
Page 185 - Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast — If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see ! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Page 57 - Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away. So in the churchyard she was laid ; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side.
Page 208 - My dear, dear friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while, May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear sister ! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy...
Page 208 - The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee...
Page xxiv - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Page 163 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Page 207 - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth ; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, — both what they half create, And what perceive...
Page 198 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!— To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Page 96 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Page 194 - Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, The boat spun round and round; And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound. I moved my lips — the Pilot shrieked And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit.