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Página 212 - Of aspect more sublime : that blessed mood In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on, Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul...
Página 341 - A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
Página 111 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Página 116 - Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help...
Página 153 - And here we go backwards and forwards, And here we go round, round, roundy.
Página 355 - The whole which is to be seen appears at once and through the detail, but the detail itself is not seen: we do not think of that which gives us the idea; we are absorbed in the idea itself. Just so in literature the pure art is that which works with the fewest strokes; the fewest, that is, for its purpose, for its aim is to call up and bring home to men an idea, a form, a character, and if that idea be twisted, that form be involved, that character perplexed, many strokes of literary art will be...
Página 344 - God's messenger thro' the close wood screen Plunged and replunged his weapon at a venture, Feeling for guilty thee and me: then broke The thunder like a whole sea overhead — Seb.
Página 355 - ... are most characteristic, as most typify certain moods of certain men, or certain moods of all men; he chooses preponderant feelings of special sorts of men, or occasional feelings of men of all sorts ; but with whatever other difference and diversity, the essence is that such selfdescribing poets describe what is in them, but not peculiar to them, — what is generic, not what is special and individual.
Página 147 - And, since blank paper is denied the press, He mingles the whole alphabet by guess : In various sets, which various words compose, Of which, he hopes, mankind the meaning knows. So sounds spontaneous from the sibyl broke, Dark to herself the wonders which she spoke ; The priests found out the meaning, if they could ; And nations star'd at what none understood.