The Theory of Poetry

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M. Seeker, 1926 - 222 Seiten

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Seite 123 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised: thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jacet.
Seite 42 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Seite 245 - 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.
Seite 241 - Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
Seite 239 - Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain-torrents ; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
Seite 239 - There was a Boy : ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander ! — many a time At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone Beneath the trees or by the glimmering lake, And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm, and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him...
Seite 241 - The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, As if with voluntary power instinct Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, And growing still in stature the grim shape Towered up between me and the stars, and still, For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me.
Seite 94 - Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold ; And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould ; And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Seite 244 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
Seite 199 - The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams...

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