Feminine Influence on the PoetsJohn Lane Company, 1911 - 351 páginas |
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Página 107
... poems were " all fancy , " though he would not be able to give us the meaning of these two words . In the face of these things it is bold to do more than smile at even so astonishing a conceit as Donne's 107 Passion and Poetry.
... poems were " all fancy , " though he would not be able to give us the meaning of these two words . In the face of these things it is bold to do more than smile at even so astonishing a conceit as Donne's 107 Passion and Poetry.
Página 108
Edward Thomas. than smile at even so astonishing a conceit as Donne's " Flea , " where he bids his mistress spare the " three lives " in the one flea who has sucked the blood of both and so become their " marriage temple " ; and it is ...
Edward Thomas. than smile at even so astonishing a conceit as Donne's " Flea , " where he bids his mistress spare the " three lives " in the one flea who has sucked the blood of both and so become their " marriage temple " ; and it is ...
Página 120
... Donne , probably of the same Welsh family as the poet Donne . She died in 1737. Fifty - two years later , in 1790 , his long - absent cousin , Mrs. Bod- ham , formerly Anne or " Rose " Donne , sent him his mother's picture . He wrote to ...
... Donne , probably of the same Welsh family as the poet Donne . She died in 1737. Fifty - two years later , in 1790 , his long - absent cousin , Mrs. Bod- ham , formerly Anne or " Rose " Donne , sent him his mother's picture . He wrote to ...
Página 121
... Donne , how that he was of the same family as John Donne , and how that he was Welsh in his touchiness . ) Upon this occasion he wrote his finest and almost his best known lines , " On the receipt of my mother's picture out of Norfolk ...
... Donne , how that he was of the same family as John Donne , and how that he was Welsh in his touchiness . ) Upon this occasion he wrote his finest and almost his best known lines , " On the receipt of my mother's picture out of Norfolk ...
Página 123
... an " Italian and pro- bably Catholic mother , " but what mothers had Marlowe and Nashe ? Lodge wrote an epitaph on his mother in 1579 , but it has disappeared . Donne's mother is more clear to us if we may 123 Mothers of Poets.
... an " Italian and pro- bably Catholic mother , " but what mothers had Marlowe and Nashe ? Lodge wrote an epitaph on his mother in 1579 , but it has disappeared . Donne's mother is more clear to us if we may 123 Mothers of Poets.
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Términos y frases comunes
addressed ballad beauty Beowulf breast Burns Byron child Claire Clairmont Countess Cowper daughter dead dear death delight died Donne doth E. K. Chambers English English poetry Epithalamion expression eyes fair Fanny Brawne feeling flowers Frances Walsingham friendship girl grace Greensleeves hair happy Harriet heart human husband Ianthe influence innocent inspired Keats Kingis Quair kiss knew Lady Landor letters lived look Lord love-poems love-poetry lover maid marriage married Mary Mary Fitton Mary Shelley Mary Sidney mind mistress morning mother Muse nature never night Nut-Brown Maid once passion patroness perhaps pleasure poems poet poet's poetry praise probably Queen Revolt of Islam rose says seems Shelley Shelley's Sidney sings sister solitude song sonnets soul speak Spenser spirit Stella sweet tells thee things thou thought tion verses voice walk wife woman women words Wordsworth write written wrote young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 21 - As one who, long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight ; The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound...
Página 32 - The author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines ; if, that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort.
Página 33 - Lyrical Ballads, in which it was agreed that my endeavours should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic — yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief, for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.
Página 236 - Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be; And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses
Página 315 - I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination — What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth — whether it existed before or not — for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty.
Página 150 - I know the ways of pleasure, the sweet strains, The lullings and the relishes of it ; The propositions of hot blood and brains ; What mirth and music mean ; what love and wit Have done these twenty hundred years, and more...
Página 242 - And whilst our souls negotiate there, We like sepulchral statues lay; All day the same our postures were, And we said nothing, all the day.
Página 122 - Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile...
Página 78 - So passeth in the passing of a day Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower...
Página 247 - To Dianeme. SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes, Which, star-like, sparkle in their skies ; Nor be you proud that you can see All hearts your captives, yours yet free ; Be you not proud of that rich hair, Which wantons with the love-sick air ; When as that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone, When all your world of beauty's gone.