The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke WhiteLittle, Brown, 1854 - 252 oldal |
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POETICAL WORKS OF HENRY KIRKE Henry Kirke 1785-1806 White,Nicholas Harris Sir Nicolas, 1799-1848 Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2016 |
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art thou beneath bless'd bliss breast breeze burning lake calm CAPEL LOFFT charms cheek Clifton Grove clouds dark death deep delight Derry distant dost dreams drear eternal faint fancy fate feel fire fix'd folding star gale genius gloom Gondoline grave groves happy harp hath head hear heard heart Heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE hope hour joys lazy Kate life's light lonely loud lyre maid mark'd melancholy mighty mind Moloch moon morn mortal mournful muse neath never night o'er pale pangs peace pensive Poems Quatorzain reclined rest rise RIVER TRENT round scene serene shade sigh sight silent sing skies sleep slumbers smile soft solemn solitary solitude song SONNET soon soothe sorrow soul sound spirit storm stream sublime sullen sweet tear tempest thee thine thou thought throne wandering wave weary ween weep wild winds woodland youth
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215. oldal - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
230. oldal - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that...
229. oldal - Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring,* And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
226. oldal - Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the Star of Bethlehem.
173. oldal - And sailing on the gusty breeze, Mysterious music dies. Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine, It warns me to the lonely shrine, The cold turf altar of the dead ; My grave shall be in yon lone spot, Where as I lie, by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.
143. oldal - Winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the...
177. oldal - What is this passing scene? A peevish April day ! A little sun — a little rain, And then night sweeps along the plain, And all things fade away Man (soon discuss'd) Yields up his trust, And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.
2. oldal - The pale mechanic leaves the labouring loom, The air-pent hold, the pestilential room, And rushes out, impatient to begin The stated course of customary sin ; Now, now my solitary way I bend Where solemn groves in awful state impend : And cliffs, that boldly rise above the plain, Bespeak, blest Clifton ! thy sublime domain.
177. oldal - O'er Beauty's fall ; Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall. The most beloved on earth Not long survives to-day ; So music past is obsolete, And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, But now 'tis gone away. Thus does the shade In memory fade, When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid.
25. oldal - And smile, and say, my name shall live with this Till Time shall be no more ; while at his feet, Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust Of the fallen fabric of the other day Preaches the solemn lesson. — He should know That time must conquer ; that the loudest blast That ever fill'd Renown's obstreperous trump Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires. Who lies inhumed in the terrific gloom Of the gigantic pyramid ? or who Rear'd its huge walls ? Oblivion laughs, and says, The prey is mine.