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amid Annie dear art thou Azile beauty birds blue breast breath bright brow calm air cheek cowslip curl’d dark deep delight Devon doth dream dreary elves enchanted enchanted wood eyes fair fairy feelings flowers forehead forest Gardastagno GARDEN OF FLORENCE gaze gentle gloom golden grass green grief hair hand happy hath heart idlesse Indreana lady leaf leaves light lilies lingering lips lonely look'd lover lute mind moon morn Muse never night o'er Pasquino pass'd passion perchance pine poem press'd Provence quiet romance rose seem'd serene shade shadows sigh sigh’d silence silver Simonida sleep smile soft solitude song SONNET spirit stars strange straying summer sweet sweetly tears thee thine things thou thoughts trees trembles tremulous tresses turn'd Virgillisi voice wandering water lilies waves Ween wild wings witchery wood young youth
Page 104 - Go, where the water glideth gently ever, Glideth by meadows that the greenest be;— Go, listen to our own beloved river, And think of me ! Wander in forests, where the small flower layeth Its fairy gem beside the giant tree; Listen the dim brook pining while it playeth, And think of me
Page 144 - Even so this happy creature of herself " Is all sufficient: Solitude to her " Is blithe society." Wordsworth. As young and pretty as the bud Of the strawberry in the wood; As restless as the fawn that's there, Playing like a thing of air,— Chasing the wind, if there be any,— Like these,
Page 8 - Oh lovers are long watchers of the night! Watchers of coiling darkness—of the light— Of the cold window-pane, whereon the moon Casteth her sallow smile in night's mid noon—» Of the unwearied stars that watch on high, As though there were lone lovers in the sky!— Passion lays desolate the fields of sleep, And wakes a thousand eyes to watch and weep.
Page 29 - No greater misery can befall you in this life, than to become a prey unto the world. Sir Walter
Page 98 - Peace be within the dear loved hearts of both ! We gather'd wood flowers,—some, blue as the vein O'er Hero's eyelid stealing,—and some as white In the clustering grass, as rich Europa's hand Nested amid the curls on Jupiter's forehead, What time he
Page 111 - it looks upon : And Memory, that maiden never alone, Cons o'er the tale of life. While I can see This blue, deep sky—that sun so proudly setting In the haughty west—that spring patiently wetting The shadowy dell—these trees so tall and fair, That have no visitors but the birds and air ; And hear those leaves a gentle murmur keep,
Page xii - thus he was destroyed ! One story he completed, and that is to me now the most pathetic poem in existence' The Ladye of Provence is taken from one of Boccacio's stories, and the original incidents
Page 12 - welcome.—The first morn On which their lips seem'd for each other born! She lean'd within his arm, on that new day, And look'd content to lean her life away ! Their eyes in married lustre could not part, But, lighted by the radiance of the heart, Shone on each other:—thus,—they idly cast Their shadows on the laurels as they pass'd!
Page 128 - me how to spurn Death's lone decaying and oblivion stern From the sweet forehead of a lady mine. The golden clusters of enamouring hair Glow'd in poetic pictures sweetly well;— Why should not tresses dusk, that are so fair On the live brow, have an eternal spell In poesy ?—dark eyes are dearer far Than orbs that mock the hyacinthine-bell.