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Lyrical Ballads

Quotations from Lyrical Ballads

QuestionAnswer
What if these barren bows the bee not loves
If the wind breathe soft the curling waves that break against the shore, shall lull thy mind
----Who he was Change in topic, Lines left upon a seat in a Yew Tree
Mossy sod Land description
To bend its arms in circling shade
I well remember No common soul genius nurs'd
against all enemies prepared; All but neglect
Spirit damped turned away
with food of pride sustained his soul In solitude.
Stranger! Urging to listen
this place had charms for him
morbid pleasure nourished
emblem of his own unfruitful life
mournful joy
on visionary views would fancy feed
Till his eye streamed with tears
seat his only monument
Pride Howe'er disguised in its own majesty is littleness
he, who feels contempt for any living thing hath facuties which he has never used
true knowledge leads to love
true dignity abides with him alon Who... Can still suspect, and revere imself In lowliness of heart.
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
A balmy night! enthusiasm for night time
we shall find pleasure
Most musical, most melancholy Bird! (Milton)
A melancholy Bird? O idle thought!
In nature there is nothing melancholy
grevious wrong rejected love
nam'ed these notes a melancholy strain
many a poet echoes the conceit
we have learnt a different lore:
Nature's sweet voices always full of love and joyance!
merry Nightingale
delicious notes
My dear Babe
I deem it wise to make him Nature's play mate.
he beholds the moon, and hush'd at once
suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently
sweet Nightingale!
Nightingale is blank verse, conversational
And this place our forfarthers made for man!
the process of our love and wisdom
Is this the only cure?
Merciful God!
Ignorance and parching poverty
His energier roll back upon his heart
Stagnate and corrupt; till changed to poison
Loathsome plague-spot
friendless solitude, groaning and tears
dismal twilight!
clanking hour
circled with evil
till his very soul Unmoulds its essence
hoplessly deformed
O Nature
Healest thy wandering and distempered child
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters.
no more endure to be a jarring and dissonant thing
general dance and minstrelsy
His angy spirit healed and harmonised
joy that precedes the calm season of rest
dwelling so fair?
thick- ribbed walls
stedfast dejection
On the fetters that link him to death
bone are consumed
life-blood is dried
blood-reeking field
vault of disease
A thousand sharp punctures of cold-sweating pain
Poor victim!
a brother
Would plant thee where yet thou might'st blossom again
I have a boy of five years old
dearly he loves me
face fair and fresh to see
To think, and think, and think again
Klive's delightful shore,
So much happiness to spare
rustic dress
young lambs ran a pretty race
morning sun shone bright and warm
Why? repetition throughout
At Klive there was no weather-cock, And that's the reason why.
O dearest, dearest boy!
Could I but teach the hundrethpart Of what from thee I learn.
A simple child
What should it know of death?
rustic, woodland air
was wildly clad
How many may you be
Seven are we We are seven
Their graves are green
I sit and sing to them
God released her of her pain
went away
ground was white with snow
John was forced to go
O Master
But they are dead; thos two are dead!
A thousand blended notes
sweet mood when when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind
Much it griev'd my heart to think
What man has made of man
Every flower Enjoys the air it breathes
The birds around me hopp'd and play'd
seem'd a thrill of pleasure
Budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air
There was pleasure there
Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
First mild day of March
Each minute sweeter than before
Blessing in the air
joy to yield
My Sister!
('tis a wish of mine)
Make haste
Come forth
Woodland dress
Bring no book
We'll give to idleness
Our living Calendar
Fom earth to man, from man to earth -it is the hour of feeling
Our minds shall drink at every pore The spirit of the season.
Take our temper from to-day
blessed power
About, below, above.
How it could ever have been young,
It looks so old and grey
a mass of knotted joints
like rock or stone
Cuts like a scythe
Tis three feet long, and two feet wide
Fresh and lovely sight
All lovely colours All colours that were ever seen
vermillion dye green, red and pearly white
Is like an infant's grave in size
As like as like can be
A woman in a scarlet cloak
Oh misery! oh misery" Oh woe is me! oh misery!
Frosty air
whirlwind's on the hill
In rain, in tempest, and in snow
Oh wherefore? wherefore?
A cruel, cruel fire
Old Farmer Simpson did maintain
Who had a brain so wild
Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain
With drops of poor infants blood;
kill a new-born infant thus! I do not think she could.
the grass shook upon the ground
the thorn is bound with heavytufts of moss, that strive to drag it to the ground
wild rusty stain
sun has burnt her coal-black hair
far from over the mai
or else she were alone
English tongue
Sweet babe! They day that I am mad
My heart is far too glad
safe as in a cradle
I pray thee have no fear of me
I cannot work thee any woe
fiendish daces one, two, three
A fire was once with my brain
Oh joy for me that sight to see!
For he was here, and only he
Suck, little babe, oh suck again!
The breeze I see is in the tree; It comes to cool my babe and me
do not dread the waves
o'er the sea-rocks edge we go
Without me my sweet babe would die.
Bold as a lion I will be;
I will always be thy guide
merry as the birds in spring
what if my poor cheek be brown?
Dread not their taunts, my little life!
I am thy father's wedded wife
But he, poor man! is wretched made
What wicked looks are those I see?
Alas! alas! that look so wild
If thou art mad, my pretty lad
Thn I must be for ever sad
To the woods away!
And there, my babe; we'll live for aye.
Created by: Emma Harding Emma Harding on 2011-06-03



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