Poems, Volumen2Wiley and Putnam, 1846 - 229 páginas |
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Página 37
... literary fortune that I am not reduced , like many better wits , to barter dedications , for the hope or promise of patronage , with some nominally great man ; but that where true affection points , and honest respect , I am free to ...
... literary fortune that I am not reduced , like many better wits , to barter dedications , for the hope or promise of patronage , with some nominally great man ; but that where true affection points , and honest respect , I am free to ...
Página 233
... LITERARY REMINISCENCES . - INTRODUCTORY . • IX . LITERARY REMINISCENCES , NO . I. 36 1839 41 • 49 · 51 66 X. 66 66 NO . II . XI . 66 66 NO . III . XII . 66 NO . IV . 59 64 68 XIII . THE LOST HEIR 101 XIV . AN UNDERTAKER 106 XV . MISS ...
... LITERARY REMINISCENCES . - INTRODUCTORY . • IX . LITERARY REMINISCENCES , NO . I. 36 1839 41 • 49 · 51 66 X. 66 66 NO . II . XI . 66 66 NO . III . XII . 66 NO . IV . 59 64 68 XIII . THE LOST HEIR 101 XIV . AN UNDERTAKER 106 XV . MISS ...
Página
... literary merit , but which oftener conceal the man from the reader than lead the latter to suspect the tender heart , the delicate fancy , hidden be- neath . There are whole volumes of Hood's writings which ap- pear mere whimsicality ...
... literary merit , but which oftener conceal the man from the reader than lead the latter to suspect the tender heart , the delicate fancy , hidden be- neath . There are whole volumes of Hood's writings which ap- pear mere whimsicality ...
Página 36
... literary practice have been usually dependent on each other - a likeness and a life , - a candle and a pint of wine . The mere act of sitting probably suggests the idea of hatching ; at least an author has seldom nested in a painter's ...
... literary practice have been usually dependent on each other - a likeness and a life , - a candle and a pint of wine . The mere act of sitting probably suggests the idea of hatching ; at least an author has seldom nested in a painter's ...
Página 37
... literary contemporaries who have cared to remark on my personals , have agreed in ascribing to me a melancholy bias ; thus an authority in the New Monthly Maga . zine has described me as " a grave anti - pun - like - looking per- son ...
... literary contemporaries who have cared to remark on my personals , have agreed in ascribing to me a melancholy bias ; thus an authority in the New Monthly Maga . zine has described me as " a grave anti - pun - like - looking per- son ...
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Términos y frases comunes
amongst Barbican beauty bird bloom blue breath bright brow called Charles Lamb cheeks clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dream Dundee Eugene Aram eyes face fair fairy fancy fear fire flow'rs gaze gentle gloom gold golden green grief hair hand hath head heart heaven HERO AND LEANDER hope human Jean Bertaut Kilmansegg lady leaves light Lincolnshire lips literary living look Lord Lord Byron LYCUS melancholy melodious falls mind Miss moral morning Naiad never night o'er once pale pity poor PUGSLEY raining music rich rose round Saturn shade shadows shine sighs sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee There's thing THOMAS HOOD thou thought trees turn turn'd Twas voice walk wave weep whilst wind wings young yure
Pasajes populares
Página 194 - Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Página 184 - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
Página 185 - Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — . Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Página 192 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Página 145 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main ; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
Página 112 - O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!
Página 84 - Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — The poets who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays...
Página 71 - Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch Turn, and return, indenting with the way ; Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay : For misery is trodden on by many, And being low never relieved by any.
Página 116 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is haunted...
Página 186 - Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing, Fix'd on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest. — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour...