The poems of George Heath, selected and arranged by J. Badnall. Memoir by F. Redfern. Mem. ed1870 |
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Page 3
... beautiful works of creation , and the pursuit of know- ledge , in acquainting himself with English authors , and in giving form to his own poetic conceptions and feelings . Such facts , however , as the " Diary " affords , with a few 66 ...
... beautiful works of creation , and the pursuit of know- ledge , in acquainting himself with English authors , and in giving form to his own poetic conceptions and feelings . Such facts , however , as the " Diary " affords , with a few 66 ...
Page 5
... beautiful dreams to the curl of the shavings and rasp of the saw : " imagination began to jingle poetic lines that were never written down ; afterwards the poor joiners ' apprentice boy felt his first pulsations of ambition . Strange ...
... beautiful dreams to the curl of the shavings and rasp of the saw : " imagination began to jingle poetic lines that were never written down ; afterwards the poor joiners ' apprentice boy felt his first pulsations of ambition . Strange ...
Page 9
... beautiful head on my bosom was laid , And her lily - white hand was clasped fondly in mine . O God ! how intensely and madly I loved ! How wildly I worshipped that beautiful one . You know how inconstant and faithless she proved , How ...
... beautiful head on my bosom was laid , And her lily - white hand was clasped fondly in mine . O God ! how intensely and madly I loved ! How wildly I worshipped that beautiful one . You know how inconstant and faithless she proved , How ...
Page 14
... or anything of that stamp , and have no chance of knowing much , for there is not one in my neighbourhood who seems to have the least taste in that line . The flowers are all of them beautiful faces 14 Memoir of George Heath .
... or anything of that stamp , and have no chance of knowing much , for there is not one in my neighbourhood who seems to have the least taste in that line . The flowers are all of them beautiful faces 14 Memoir of George Heath .
Page 15
George Heath James Badnall. line . The flowers are all of them beautiful faces looking up at me ; but though familiar to me in one sense , they are not familiar , inasmuch as I do not even know their names . On this account , as well as ...
George Heath James Badnall. line . The flowers are all of them beautiful faces looking up at me ; but though familiar to me in one sense , they are not familiar , inasmuch as I do not even know their names . On this account , as well as ...
Other editions - View all
The Poems of George Heath, Selected and Arranged by J. Badnall. Memoir by F ... George Heath,Francis Redfern No preview available - 2015 |
The Poems Of George Heath, Selected And Arranged By J. Badnall. Memoir By F ... George Heath,Francis Redfern No preview available - 2019 |
The Poems Of George Heath, Selected And Arranged By J. Badnall. Memoir By F ... George Heath,Francis Redfern No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
Æneid amid anguish beautiful beneath blessed bosom breath bright bright films brow calm cheeks clasped clouds dark dawn dear dream e'en earth Endon Euroclydon evermore eyes face faded fair feel flowers gazed George Heath gloom glory glowing gone grave grew gush hand happy days hath heart heaven hills hope kiss light lips London Poems look luminous films mist films mongst neath never night noble o'er pain passion pause poems prayer quivering radiant rapture rapturous song rest Richard Buxton rose round scene seemed shade shadow shining silent smile softly solemn song sorrow soul spirit Staffordshire moorlands stars stood strange sweet tears tempest tender thee things thou art thought thrilling toil trees Twas twill unto Uttoxeter vision voice waifs waves weary weep wept wild winds woman's tale wonder yearning
Popular passages
Page 1 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.
Page 30 - Now, for this consecrated Fount Of murmuring, sparkling, living love, What have I ? shall I dare to tell ? A comfortless and hidden WELL. A Well of love — it may be deep — I trust it is, — and never dry : What matter ? if the Waters sleep In silence and obscurity. — Such change, and at the very door Of my fond Heart, hath made me poor.
Page 1 - And nights devoid of ease. Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction' That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest...
Page 6 - Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining ; Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining Buds that open only to decay ! Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, Flaunting gaily in the golden light ; Large desires, with most uncertain issues, Tender wishes, blossoming at night ! These in flowers and men are more than seeming Workings are they of the self-same powers, Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming, Seeth in himself, and in the flowers.
Page 21 - After five years' suffering. Fell a victim to that disease, May 5, 1869, aged 25 yean, " His lifo is a fragment — a broken clue — His harp had a musical string or two, The tension was great, and they sprang and flew, And a few brief strains — a scattered few — Are all that remain to mortal view Of the marvellous song the young man knew.
Page 151 - Lustre round thy beauties' bloom ; Ah ! should all the gifts and graces Gather round thee and conspire In thy form to fix their essence, Flush thy face with spirit-fire ; Nay ! shouldst thou in tears, forgetting Beauty-love is calm and proud, Shouldst thou humble thee, and bow thee Where I once so meekly bowed : Having once deceived me, never, Never more, whate'er thy mien, Couldst thou be to me the being That thou mightest once have been. No, alas ! thy tears might give me Less of pride, and less...
Page 150 - ... free ; Doff a love, and don another. In a twilight like to thee. No ! I sooner far would suffer All the agony of heart — Ay, an age of desolation — Than be fickle as thou art. For it proves to me, my spirit Has not lost the stamp divine ; That my nature is not shallow, Is not base and mean as thine. Neither think thou that my being Yearns towards thee even yet ; That a smile of thine would banish All I never may forget ; That a look of thine would make...