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Seite 39 - MY heart leaps up when I behold A Rainbow in the sky : So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a Man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die ! The Child is Father of the Man ; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety, TO A BUTTERFLY.
Seite 22 - The Moon was at its edge. The thick, black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side; Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide. The loud wind never reached the ship, Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan.
Seite 207 - Poems, by ST Coleridge. Second edition — to which are now added Poems by Charles Lamb and Charles Lloyd.
Seite 6 - Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, These little things are great to little man ; And wiser he whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Seite 52 - And thus the lofty lady spake 'All they who live in the upper sky, Do love you, holy Christabel! And you love them, and for their sake And for the good which me befel, Even I in my degree will try, Fair maiden, to requite you well. But now unrobe yourself; for I Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie.
Seite 138 - Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...
Seite 43 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised...
Seite 43 - I hear! —But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Seite 58 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Seite 37 - While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The Old Man's shape, and speech, all troubled me : In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace About the weary moors continually, Wandering about alone and silently. While I these thoughts within myself pursued...