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Página 288 - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Página 287 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Página 463 - I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom...
Página 262 - Tous les grands divertissements sont dangereux pour la vie chrétienne ; mais entre tous ceux que le monde a inventés, il n'y en a point qui soit plus à craindre que la comédie. C'est une représentation si naturelle et si délicate des passions, qu'elle les émeut et les fait naître dans notre cœur, et surtout celle de l'amour, principalement lorsqu'on le représente fort chaste et fort honnête.
Página 287 - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...
Página 281 - GREAT spirits now on earth are sojourning ; He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake, Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing : He of the rose, the violet, the spring, The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake : And lo!
Página 281 - An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour ; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast, That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast, They always must be with us or we die.
Página 91 - Be Yarrow Stream unseen, unknown ! It must, or we shall rue it : We have a vision of our own ; Ah I why should we undo it ? The treasured dreams of times long past, We'll keep them, winsome Marrow ! For when we're there, although 'tis fair, 'Twill be another Yarrow.