The Poems of William Cowper ...

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C. Wells, 1835 - English poetry - 491 pages

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Page 290 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Page 397 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! But the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Page 373 - And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair. "My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise, so you must ride On horseback after we." He soon replied — "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done. " I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know; And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go.
Page 364 - He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glowworm by his spark ; So stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent — Did you admire my lamp...
Page 272 - He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and though poor perhaps, compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. His are the mountains, and the valleys his, And the resplendent rivers. His to' enjoy With a propriety that none can feel But who with filial confidence inspired Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say —
Page 334 - Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Page 457 - Could catch the sound no more : For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him ; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme A more enduring date : But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case. No voice divine the storm allayed,...
Page 273 - A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms Terrestrial in the vast and the minute; The unambiguous footsteps of the God Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
Page 398 - I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again ; To have renewed the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine : And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft — Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
Page 279 - And throwing up into the darkest gloom Of neighbouring cypress, or more sable yew, Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf That the wind severs from the broken wave ; The lilac, various in array, now white, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set With purple spikes pyramidal, as if Studious of ornament, yet unresolved Which hue she most approved, she chose them all...

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