The British Poets, Volume 1

Front Cover
Little, Brown & Company, 1866
 

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Page 203 - I will be wise, And just and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power ; for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check.
Page 160 - Mother of this unfathomable world! Favour my solemn song, for I have loved Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps. And my heart ever gazes on the depth Of thy deep mysteries.
Page 4 - How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep ! One, pale as yonder waning moon With lips of lurid blue ! The other, rosy as the morn When throned on ocean's wave It blushes o'er the world: Yet both so passing wonderful ! Hath then the gloomy Power Whose reign is in the tainted sepulchres...
Page 204 - Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, And walked as free as light the clouds among, Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.
Page 184 - O, for Medea's wondrous alchemy, Which wheresoe'er it fell made the earth gleam With bright flowers, and the wintry boughs exhale From vernal blooms fresh fragrance ! O, that God, Profuse of poisons, would concede the chalice Which but one living man has drained, who now, Vessel of deathless wrath, a slave that feels No proud exemption in the blighting curse He bears, over the world wanders for ever, Lone as incarnate death...
Page 166 - Roused by the shock he started from his trance — The cold white light of morning, the blue moon Low in the west, the clear and garish hills, The distinct valley and the vacant woods, Spread round him where he stood. Whither have fled The hues of heaven that canopied his bower Of yesternight? The sounds that soothed his sleep, The mystery and the majesty of Earth, The joy, the exultation? His wan eyes Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly As ocean's moon looks on the moon in heaven.
Page 175 - The grey trunks, and, as gamesome infants' eyes, With gentle meanings, and most innocent wiles, Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs Uniting their close union ; the woven leaves Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms 450 Minute yet beautiful.
Page 161 - May modulate with murmurs of the air, And motions of the forests and the sea, And voice of living beings, and woven hymns Of night and day, and the deep heart of man.
Page 94 - One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh, but the earth abideth forever.
Page 180 - Yet the grey precipice and solemn pine And torrent, were not all; — one silent nook Was there. Even on the edge of that vast mountain, Upheld by knotty roots and fallen rocks, It overlooked in its serenity The dark earth, and the bending vault of stars. It was a tranquil spot, that seemed to smile Even in the lap of horror.

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