The village bridal and other poems. Also, two lectures |
From inside the book
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Page 9
... Labour , and , by its ulti- mate defeat , was led to the conclusion that strikes are not the best means of obtaining justice , but rather produce ruinous results to both parties . I am free to confess , that strikes are the inevitable ...
... Labour , and , by its ulti- mate defeat , was led to the conclusion that strikes are not the best means of obtaining justice , but rather produce ruinous results to both parties . I am free to confess , that strikes are the inevitable ...
Page 29
... labour'd on to mis'ry born , " To aid myself and brothers to maintain our right " To proper food and raiment , unsuppress'd by might . " But she , poor struggler , thro ' a maze of strife and pain , " Toil'd on in waning strength , for ...
... labour'd on to mis'ry born , " To aid myself and brothers to maintain our right " To proper food and raiment , unsuppress'd by might . " But she , poor struggler , thro ' a maze of strife and pain , " Toil'd on in waning strength , for ...
Page 58
... labour on , unblest , yet still the same , Ever destroying Vice and feeding Virtue's flame . Knowledge expands her universal wings , Flapping the gates of Ignorance away , As o'er its wide - spread boundary she flings The magic of her ...
... labour on , unblest , yet still the same , Ever destroying Vice and feeding Virtue's flame . Knowledge expands her universal wings , Flapping the gates of Ignorance away , As o'er its wide - spread boundary she flings The magic of her ...
Page 94
... labour's monumental grandeur crown'd , Think , when ye sow affection's fructile seed , Ye nurture not the moral scathing weed Which chokes the blossoming flowers of truth , And nestles falsehood in the heart of youth . Oh , think ! if ...
... labour's monumental grandeur crown'd , Think , when ye sow affection's fructile seed , Ye nurture not the moral scathing weed Which chokes the blossoming flowers of truth , And nestles falsehood in the heart of youth . Oh , think ! if ...
Page 98
... labour of the architect ; the rugged or sweetly- enticing landscape , with its trees , hills , meadows , and streams , decked in new and varied colours on the canvas of the painter ; the mellifluous harmony of sound , that sweetly fulls ...
... labour of the architect ; the rugged or sweetly- enticing landscape , with its trees , hills , meadows , and streams , decked in new and varied colours on the canvas of the painter ; the mellifluous harmony of sound , that sweetly fulls ...
Common terms and phrases
angel barque beauty behold BIRKENHEAD blest bliss breast breath brother child clouds co-operation dark shadows dear death delight diction divine doth dream e'en earth Edgar Allan Poe Eliza Cook enchanting evanescent faith flowers freedom gaze give glide glorious glowing golden ears happiness hath heart Hertfordshire holy hope human ideal ignorance imagination influence intellectual labour life's live Love's majesty mankind means mind misery moral moral philosophy mother mould mourn mysterious mystic nature Nature's ne'er neath nestling never night nought o'er Poems poet poetic poetic diction Poetry of Feeling poverty pride principle produce Progress Quoth the Raven rapture Redhill reform reign Religion rill serfdom shine slave slavery smiles social soul strife struggle sublime sweet sweetly thee There's music things thou thought thrill thro tion toil truth Virtue's voice waft Whilst Wolverton wonderful youthful
Popular passages
Page 115 - Hear the loud alarum bells, Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Page 114 - Nevermore." "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting: "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Page 114 - thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.
Page 114 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, . And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Page 115 - Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows ; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — Of the bells— Of the bells, bells, bells...
Page 112 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.
Page 116 - Go to the raging sea, and say, " Be still !" Bid the wild lawless winds obey thy will ; Preach to the storm, and reason with Despair, But tell not Misery's son that life is fair.
Page 110 - Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou ? Began the rev'rend Sage ! Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasure's rage ? Or, haply, prest with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast began To wander forth, with me, to mourn The miseries of Man.
Page 112 - O death ! the poor man's dearest friend. The kindest and the best ! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest ! The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, From pomp and pleasure torn ; But, Oh ! a blest relief to those That weary-laden mourn ! A PRAYER, IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
Page 115 - Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang and clash and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows...