Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
appeared arms beams beautiful became beneath blood breath bright calm cause child clouds cold dark dead death deep disease dream earth eternal evil eyes fair faith fear feel fell felt fire flame fled flow Forman frame friends grave hand happy heard heart Heaven hope human Italy leaves light lips living lone looks mankind mind misery moral morning mountains nature never night notes o'er once pale passed passion peace poem published pure Queen reason rest Rossetti round ruin sate seemed sense sent shade shadow shape Shelley Shelley's silence slaves sleep smile soon soul sound spirit spread spring stars stood strange stream sweet tears thee things thou thought throne tion truth turned universe voice wandering waves wide wild wind youth
Pàgina 94 - Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly As ocean's moon looks on the moon in heaven. The spirit of sweet human love has sent A vision to the sleep of him who spurned Her choicest gifts.
Pàgina 128 - Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass. I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And wept, I knew not why ; until there rose From the near school-room voices that, alas ! Were but one echo from a world of woes — The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
Pàgina 94 - His brain even like despair. While day-light held The sky, the Poet kept mute conference With his still soul. At night the passion came, Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness.
Pàgina 87 - If spring's voluptuous pantings when she breathes Her first sweet kisses, have been dear to me ; If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast I consciously have injured, but still loved And cherished these my kindred...
Pàgina 131 - They say that thou wert, lovely from thy birth, Of glorious parents thou aspiring Child : I wonder not, for One then left this earth Whose life was like a setting planet mild, Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled Of its departing glory ; still her fame Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild Which shake these latter days ; and thou canst claim The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.
Pàgina 98 - With fierce gusts and precipitating force, Through the white ridges of the chafed sea. The waves arose. Higher and higher still Their fierce necks writhed beneath the tempest's scourge Like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp.
Pàgina 128 - And then I clasped my hands and looked around, But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground — So without shame I spake : — "I will be wise, And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check.
Pàgina 95 - And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness. — As an eagle grasped In folds of the green serpent, feels her breast Burn with the poison, and precipitates Through night and day, tempest, and calm and cloud, Frantic with dizzying anguish, her blind flight O'er the wide aery wilderness...
Pàgina 287 - Wind-winged emblem ! brightest, best and fairest ! Whence comest thou, when, with dark Winter's sadness The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest ? Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest Thy mother's dying smile, tender and sweet ; Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet, Disturbing not the leaves which are her winding-sheet.
Pàgina lxxvi - I was silent from astonishment: was it possible this mildlooking, beardless boy, could be the veritable monster at war with all the world ?—excommunicated by the Fathers of the Church, deprived of his civil rights by the fiat of a grim Lord Chancellor, discarded by every member of his family, and denounced by the rival sages of our literature as the founder of a Satanic school 1 I could not believe it; it must be a hoax.