The Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Macmillan, 1893 - 667 Seiten

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Seite 86 - The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves ; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.
Seite 90 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Seite 463 - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Seite 99 - Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale ; And then it left me free. ' Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns ; And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns.
Seite 86 - Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Seite 152 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
Seite 93 - This body dropt not down. Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea ! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. The many men so beautiful ! And they all dead did lie ; And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on : and so did I.
Seite 146 - All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green : And still I gaze — -and with how blank an eye ! And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, That give away their motion to the stars ; Those stars, that glide behind them or between, Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen : Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue ; I see them all so excellently fair, I see, not feel, how...
Seite 123 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Seite 93 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, nor spake, nor moved their eyes; it had been strange, even in a dream, to have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; yet never a breeze...

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