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" I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. "
English Literature of the Nineteenth Century ... - Página 561
por Charles Dexter Cleveland - 1851 - 746 páginas
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Encyclopaedia of English and American Poetry: From Caedmon and ..., Volumen2

Samuel Orchart Beeton - 1873 - 782 páginas
...howling at all hours, And are up-gatber'd now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we ore leading home, Though condemn'd for disobeying, I had...part, Had been better far than dying Of a grieved blow his wreathed horn. Wordsicorth. — Bora 1770, Died 1850. 1191.— ON KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL, CAMBRIDGE....
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English Sonnets: A Selection

John Dennis - 1873 - 280 páginas
...our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like...moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make...
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Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Volumen18;Volumen81

John Holmes Agnew, Walter Hilliard Bidwell, Henry T. Steele - 1873 - 840 páginas
...our hearts away — a sordid boon ! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are upgathered now like...moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make...
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The Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, Volumen18

1873 - 808 páginas
...our hearts away — a sordid boon! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are upgathered now like...moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make...
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The Student's Treasury of English Song ...

William Henry Davenport Adams - 1873 - 552 páginas
...bares her bosom to the moon — The winds that will be howling at all hours, ffi ',--• o g OUGHT And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers, —...It moves us not Great God ! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn, V, LE TRICKL K H So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses...
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Macmillan's Magazine, Volumen27

1873 - 598 páginas
...The winds that will be howling at all hours, And- are upgathered now like sleeping flowers ; Forthis, for everything, we are out of tune ; It moves us not.— Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make...
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the poets of lhkeland wordsworth

T. LINDSEY ASPLAND - 1874 - 492 páginas
...that bares her bosom to the moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers ; For this, for everything,...of Proteus coming from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. Composed on Westminster Bridge, Sept. jrd, iSoj. EARTH has not anything to...
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Beauties of English Landscape

1874 - 334 páginas
...our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like...we are out of tune ; It moves us not. — Great God ' I 'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have...
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Selections from the poetical works of William Wordsworth, ed. with notes by ...

William [poetical works Wordsworth (selections]) - 1874 - 96 páginas
...our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; i The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like...we are out of tune ; It moves us not. — Great God ! I 'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; i< So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,...
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Theology in the English Poets: Cowper, Coleridge, Wordsworth and Burns

Stopford Augustus Brooke - 1874 - 396 páginas
...our hearts away, a sordid boon ! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are upgathered now like...everything, we are out of tune ; It moves us not. And in a letter he says the same thing — " It is an awful truth, that there neither is, nor can be,...
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