The Muse in Council: Being Essays on Poets and Poetry

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Houghton Mifflin, 1925 - 303 pages
 

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Page 41 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near, And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Page 109 - How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year ! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Page 162 - HERACLITUS THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead ; They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remembered, how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
Page 121 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 72 - Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
Page 132 - Is the night chilly and dark ? The night is chilly, but not dark. The thin gray cloud is spread on high, It covers but not hides the sky. The moon is behind, and at the full ; And yet she looks both small and dull. The night is chill, the cloud is gray : Tis a month before the month of May, And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
Page 120 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace; Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm, thy glassy wave? The captive linnet which enthral? What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball?
Page 44 - When all at once I saw a crowd, — A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay : Ten thousand saw I, at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee ; A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed — and gazed — but little...
Page 129 - Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree...
Page 110 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt. Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair. And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

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