Little Classics, Volume 14Rossiter Johnson Houghton, Mifflin, 1875 |
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Page 65
... , I do thee wrong to call thee so ; ' Tis we are changed , not thou art fleet : The man thy presence feels again , Not in the blood , but in the brain , E Spirit that lov'st the upper air , Serene and vaporless ODE TO HAPPINESS . 65.
... , I do thee wrong to call thee so ; ' Tis we are changed , not thou art fleet : The man thy presence feels again , Not in the blood , but in the brain , E Spirit that lov'st the upper air , Serene and vaporless ODE TO HAPPINESS . 65.
Page 66
Rossiter Johnson. Spirit that lov'st the upper air , Serene and vaporless and rare , Such as on mountain - heights we find And wide - viewed uplands of the mind , Or such as scorns to coil and sing Round any but the eagle's wing Of souls ...
Rossiter Johnson. Spirit that lov'st the upper air , Serene and vaporless and rare , Such as on mountain - heights we find And wide - viewed uplands of the mind , Or such as scorns to coil and sing Round any but the eagle's wing Of souls ...
Page 78
... spirit of Plato , to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; And of those demons that are found In fire , air , flood , or under ground , Whose power hath a ...
... spirit of Plato , to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; And of those demons that are found In fire , air , flood , or under ground , Whose power hath a ...
Page 80
... spirit to mortals good , Or the unseen genius of the wood . But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale , And love the high embowéd roof , With antic pillars massy proof , And storied windows , richly dight ...
... spirit to mortals good , Or the unseen genius of the wood . But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale , And love the high embowéd roof , With antic pillars massy proof , And storied windows , richly dight ...
Page 82
... spirit lies Under the walls of Paradise . Under the walls Where swells and falls The Bay's deep breast at intervals At peace I lie , Blown softly by , A cloud upon this liquid sky . The day , so mild , Is Heaven's own child , With Earth ...
... spirit lies Under the walls of Paradise . Under the walls Where swells and falls The Bay's deep breast at intervals At peace I lie , Blown softly by , A cloud upon this liquid sky . The day , so mild , Is Heaven's own child , With Earth ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright cowslips crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy forever Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JOHN MILTON kiss land let us gang life's light lips live Lochiel Locksley Hall long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn Neath nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain pale flower passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shadows rise shining shore sigh silent sing smile song soul sound spring star sweet tears thee thine things thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave weep Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wind's youth are long
Popular passages
Page 15 - Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new : That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do...
Page 60 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral ; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
Page 122 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity ; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew ; — The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Page 69 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Page 97 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 61 - Thou little child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life...
Page 224 - Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
Page 98 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Page 128 - Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in His hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God; see all, nor be afraid!
Page 113 - Last came, and last did go The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: 'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold!