Wat mensen zeggen - Een review schrijven
We hebben geen reviews gevonden op de gebruikelijke plaatsen.
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
admirable appeared beauty become better bring called cause century character close comes critic death delight desire earth effect England English evil existence expression eyes face fact faith father feeling follow force give hand happy heart hope human ideal ideas imagination influence interest Italy kind Lady less light lines literature living look lover manner means Milton mind moral nature never night object once pass passion perfect perhaps period persons play poem poet poetry political possess present Queen reform representative Romeo seems sense Shakspere Shakspere's Shelley Shelley's side Sordello soul speak Spenser spirit stand strength things thought tion true truth turn verse virtue whole wife woman wonder Wordsworth writes written young youth
Pagina 360 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Pagina 142 - ... Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ; And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade : The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colours have all passed away from her eyes.
Pagina 206 - For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink Deep — and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil. All strength — all terror, single or in bands, That ever was put forth in personal form — Jehovah — with his thunder, and the choir Of shouting Angels, and the empyreal thrones — I pass them unalarmed.
Pagina 457 - Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspir'd their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit; If these had made one poem's period, And all combin'd in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.
Pagina 208 - Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun : If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep, I heard a voice, "Believe no more," And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the godless deep; A warmth within the breast would melt The freezing reason's colder part, And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt.
Pagina 420 - Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night : It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say — It lightens.
Pagina 474 - What th' unsearchable dispose Of highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously ; whence Gaza mourns, And all that band them to resist His...
Pagina 155 - Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery ; The same...
Pagina 162 - IF thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven, Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light, Shine, Poet ! in thy place, and be content : — The stars pre-eminent in magnitude, And they that from the zenith dart their beams, (Visible though they be to half the earth, Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness) Are yet of no diviner origin, No purer essence, than the one that burns, Like an untended watch-fire on the ridge...