A Study of the Types of Literature |
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Page xxv
... better if they had been in prose ; and such satiric poems as Pope's " Dunciad " and Byron's " Eng- lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers , " though given in rhyme , do not possess truly poetic qualities . In this study of literary types ...
... better if they had been in prose ; and such satiric poems as Pope's " Dunciad " and Byron's " Eng- lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers , " though given in rhyme , do not possess truly poetic qualities . In this study of literary types ...
Page 45
... better for that , I pray you answer me why . " " St. Keyne , " quoth the Cornish- man , “ many a time Drank of this crystal well , And before the Angel summoned her She laid on the water a spell . 35 " If the Husband of this gifted well ...
... better for that , I pray you answer me why . " " St. Keyne , " quoth the Cornish- man , “ many a time Drank of this crystal well , And before the Angel summoned her She laid on the water a spell . 35 " If the Husband of this gifted well ...
Page 76
... better acquainted with it . A complete comprehension of the poem will not be reached now , yet there is so much in it that the average high school senior will enjoy that it will repay his study . The title , expanded , is as follows ...
... better acquainted with it . A complete comprehension of the poem will not be reached now , yet there is so much in it that the average high school senior will enjoy that it will repay his study . The title , expanded , is as follows ...
Page 91
... better after death . NATURE 1 Longfellow As a fond mother , when the day is o'er Leads by the hand her little child to bed , Half willing , half reluctant to be led , And leave his broken playthings on the floor ; Still gazing at them ...
... better after death . NATURE 1 Longfellow As a fond mother , when the day is o'er Leads by the hand her little child to bed , Half willing , half reluctant to be led , And leave his broken playthings on the floor ; Still gazing at them ...
Page 96
... better done , as others use , To sport with Amaryllis in the shade , Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise ( That last infirmity of noble mind ) To scorn delights , and live laborious ...
... better done , as others use , To sport with Amaryllis in the shade , Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise ( That last infirmity of noble mind ) To scorn delights , and live laborious ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Noyes Alfred Tennyson Anstruther Aylmer Barsad Beowulf British British British British Thomas Carton chapter character Charles Charles Darnay Comus Darnay dead dear death Defarge doth drama earth Elegy England English epic Essay Exeunt eyes father Faustus fear Georgiana Ghost give Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven Henry Henry Van Dyke Horatio Imitation ballad John John Ruskin King Kipling Lady Laer Laertes literature live look lord Lycidas MacLaurin Madame Defarge madness Markheim metrical romance Metrical tale mind Miscellaneous lit never night novel Ophelia Percy MacKaye play poem poetry Polonius prisoner prose Queen Robert Rosencrantz Rudyard Kipling scene Shakespeare Short-story Short-story Simple lyric sing Song Sonnet soul speech spirit Stevenson story Stryver SUGGESTIONS TO STUDENTS sweet tell thee things thou thought Wilkins-Freeman William Vaughn Moody wind ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 467 - South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled...
Page 218 - ... twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure.
Page 73 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years...
Page 80 - Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy ! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Page 219 - And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them : for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some" quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered : that's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Page 340 - Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.
Page 94 - Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Page 80 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Page 314 - The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace — all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 30 Or blush, at least.
Page 182 - Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not ' seems.' Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of...