Lyrical Ballads: With a Few Other PoemsJ. & A. Arch, 1798 - 210 sider "A landmark in Romanticism, and one of the most celebrated of all collaborative literary works, Lyrical Ballads includes Wordsworth's 'Tintern Abbey' and the earliest version of Coleridge's 'Rime of the Ancyent Marinere'. Originally the poem 'Lewti' appeared on pages 63-7; but as this was known to be by Coleridge and the authors wished to preserve their anonymity, these leaves were cancelled before publication and replaced by 'The Nightingale'. The corresponding change was made in the table of contents"--Abebooks website. Pagination errors remained as a result of the substitution of 'The Nightingale." |
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Side 55
... babe grew up a pretty boy , A pretty boy , but most unteachable— And never learnt a prayer , nor told a bead , But knew the names of birds , and mocked their notes , And whistled , as he were a bird himself : And all the autumn ' twas ...
... babe grew up a pretty boy , A pretty boy , but most unteachable— And never learnt a prayer , nor told a bead , But knew the names of birds , and mocked their notes , And whistled , as he were a bird himself : And all the autumn ' twas ...
Side 68
... Babe , Who , capable of no articulate sound , Mars all things with his imitative lisp , How he would place his hand beside his ear , His little hand , the small forefinger up , And bid us listen ! And I deem it wise To make him Nature's ...
... Babe , Who , capable of no articulate sound , Mars all things with his imitative lisp , How he would place his hand beside his ear , His little hand , the small forefinger up , And bid us listen ! And I deem it wise To make him Nature's ...
Side 130
... babe was buried there , Beneath that hill of moss so fair . XXI . I've heard the scarlet moss is red With drops of that poor infant's blood ; But kill a new - born infant thus ! I do not think she could . Some say , if to the pond you ...
... babe was buried there , Beneath that hill of moss so fair . XXI . I've heard the scarlet moss is red With drops of that poor infant's blood ; But kill a new - born infant thus ! I do not think she could . Some say , if to the pond you ...
Side 131
... babe you trace , A baby and a baby's face , And that it looks at you ; Whene'er you look on it , ' tis plain The baby looks at you again . XXII . And some had sworn an oath that she Should be to public justice brought ; And for the ...
... babe you trace , A baby and a baby's face , And that it looks at you ; Whene'er you look on it , ' tis plain The baby looks at you again . XXII . And some had sworn an oath that she Should be to public justice brought ; And for the ...
Side 141
... on her arm , Or else she were alone ; And underneath the hay - stack warm , And on the green - wood stone , She talked and sung the woods among ; And it was in the English tongue . " Sweet babe ! they say that I am mad 141 XV.
... on her arm , Or else she were alone ; And underneath the hay - stack warm , And on the green - wood stone , She talked and sung the woods among ; And it was in the English tongue . " Sweet babe ! they say that I am mad 141 XV.
Andre utgaver - Vis alle
Lyrical Ballads: William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge R. L. Brett,A. R. Jones Begrenset visning - 2002 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Albatross ancyent Marinere babe behold Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips body breath breeze bright bright eye child church-yard cold dead dear door doth dreadful fair father fear FOSTER-MOTHER gentle Goody Blake green grief happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart heaven Hermit high crag hill of moss idiot boy idle Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist limbs Liswyn farm live look Martha Ray mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd never night o'er oh misery owlets pain pass'd pleasure pond pony pony's poor old poor Susan porringer pray Quoth round sails Ship side silent Simon Lee snow soul spirit stars Stephen Hill stood sweet tale tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro tree turn'd Twas voice wedding-guest wherefore wild wind woman wood Young Harry
Populære avsnitt
Side 111 - Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell.
Side 210 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Side 7 - The bride hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy.
Side 205 - The picture of the mind revives again ; While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years.
Side 202 - That on a wild, secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
Side 35 - 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.
Side 112 - Then did the little maid reply, " Seven boys and girls are we ; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." "You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied, " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Side 203 - But oft. in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration...
Side 210 - When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief. Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations'.
Side 206 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Referanser til denne boken
Catalogue of the Library of Bernard Buchanan Macgeorge Bernard Buchanan MacGeorge Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1892 |