The Problem of Style

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H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1922 - 148 Seiten

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Seite 36 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : Yare, yare, good Iras ; quick.
Seite 84 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears ; and sometime voices, That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again.
Seite 38 - If thou and nature can so gently part. The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desired.
Seite 119 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes. Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done.
Seite 58 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Seite 28 - For our continued influxes of feeling are modified and directed by our thoughts, which are indeed the representatives of all our past feelings; and as by contemplating the relation of these general representatives to each other, we discover what is really important to men, so by the repetition and continuance of this act...
Seite 142 - This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again And thou be conscience-calm'd — See here it is — I hold it towards you.
Seite 106 - The old man still stood talking by my side ; But now his voice to me was like a stream Scarce heard ; nor word from word could I divide ; And the whole body of the man did seem Like one whom I had met with in a dream; Or like a man from some far region sent, To give me human strength by apt admonishment.
Seite 37 - With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool, Be angry, and dispatch.
Seite 145 - Wordsworth's poetry is great because of the extraordinary power with which Wordsworth feels the joy offered to us in nature, the joy offered to us in the simple primary affections and duties ; and because of the extraordinary power with which, in case after case, he shows us this joy, and renders it so . as to make us share it.

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