The English LyricHoughton Mifflin, 1913 - 335 Seiten |
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Seite 107
... Keats ; and Milton him- self did not rise , at least lyrically , above these triumphs of his young maturity . In the matter of immediate influ- ences , we may discern how the " Ode on the Nativity " smacks of the " Marinism ...
... Keats ; and Milton him- self did not rise , at least lyrically , above these triumphs of his young maturity . In the matter of immediate influ- ences , we may discern how the " Ode on the Nativity " smacks of the " Marinism ...
Seite 149
... Keats , and Shelley ; and somewhere within the broad and undefined superficies that marks the difference , the element in literature , as in art , called romanticism , finds its place . A well - known critic has called this change " the ...
... Keats , and Shelley ; and somewhere within the broad and undefined superficies that marks the difference , the element in literature , as in art , called romanticism , finds its place . A well - known critic has called this change " the ...
Seite 169
... Keats and Shelley owed much , and his generous spirit and discerning taste were always on the outlook for pro- mise . The poetry of Hunt is more important historically than intrinsically . His work is unequal , at times descend- ing to ...
... Keats and Shelley owed much , and his generous spirit and discerning taste were always on the outlook for pro- mise . The poetry of Hunt is more important historically than intrinsically . His work is unequal , at times descend- ing to ...
Seite 175
... Keats only by his poetry , when indignation at his alleged murder by the Edinburgh reviewers prompted his invi- tation to Keats to join him in Italy and fired his muse to an exquisite poetic expression of abstract friendship in ...
... Keats only by his poetry , when indignation at his alleged murder by the Edinburgh reviewers prompted his invi- tation to Keats to join him in Italy and fired his muse to an exquisite poetic expression of abstract friendship in ...
Seite 178
... Keats is the poet of the earth , that beautiful green world in which it is a pre- sent joy sensuously to live , alive to the colors , the scents , and sounds that nature lavishes , and conscious only too poignantly of their fragility ...
... Keats is the poet of the earth , that beautiful green world in which it is a pre- sent joy sensuously to live , alive to the colors , the scents , and sounds that nature lavishes , and conscious only too poignantly of their fragility ...
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A. E. Housman admirable anthologies Arnold artistic Ballads beauty Blake Browning Burns Byron Carew Celtic revival century Charles charming classical Clough Coleridge conceit contemporary Cowley Crashaw critic Dante Gabriel Rossetti death diction Donne drama Dryden elegiac Elizabethan emotion England English lyrical English poet English poetry example exquisite famous feeling Fiona Macleod Francis Thompson Herrick ideals imagination inspiration Irish Italian Jonson Keats King later less literary literature lyrical poetry lyrists Matthew Arnold medieval metrical metrist Milton Miscellany narrative nature Oxford Oxford Movement passion pastoral Petrarch poems poet poet's poetic Pope popular praise pre-Raphaelite prose religious revival rime romantic Rossetti satire sense sentiment Shakespeare Shelley Sidney sincere sings song sonnet Spenser spirit stanza Swinburne Symons taste Tennyson theme things Thomas thou thought tion touch trouvère vers de société verse Victorian volume Waller William words Wordsworth Wordsworthian writing wrote Wyatt
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 83 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May; Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Seite 127 - The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home.
Seite 67 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing...
Seite 184 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried — "La belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!" I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side.
Seite 156 - 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 Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward...
Seite 133 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my sweet William sails among the crew?
Seite 163 - THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Seite 51 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Seite 83 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Seite 10 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things. There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.