Robert Burns: As a Poet, and as a ManBaker and Scribner, 1848 - 209 páginas |
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Página 21
... simple , so wild ; Thou emblem , said I , o ' my Phillis , For she is simplicity's child . The rose - bud's the blush o ' my charmer , Her sweet balmy lip when ' tis prest : How fair and how pure is the lily , But fairer and purer her ...
... simple , so wild ; Thou emblem , said I , o ' my Phillis , For she is simplicity's child . The rose - bud's the blush o ' my charmer , Her sweet balmy lip when ' tis prest : How fair and how pure is the lily , But fairer and purer her ...
Página 30
... simple and as transparent as light . You never see about their work , that suf- focating profusion of metaphor which second - rate minds throw around their productions . The nature of material imagery , it appears to me , has not been ...
... simple and as transparent as light . You never see about their work , that suf- focating profusion of metaphor which second - rate minds throw around their productions . The nature of material imagery , it appears to me , has not been ...
Página 38
... in a cottage . He seems like a spirit sent on earth , with a special power to kindle the sparks of sentiment that smoulder in the hearts of the simple dwellers in hovels , and to make them feel their 38 ROBERT BURNS .
... in a cottage . He seems like a spirit sent on earth , with a special power to kindle the sparks of sentiment that smoulder in the hearts of the simple dwellers in hovels , and to make them feel their 38 ROBERT BURNS .
Página 45
... simple , sweet little allegory had not been already written on the heart ? Mary Campbell was in every pulse along his veins , in every roving fancy . " In poets and in painters , and perhaps in men who are neither the one nor the other ...
... simple , sweet little allegory had not been already written on the heart ? Mary Campbell was in every pulse along his veins , in every roving fancy . " In poets and in painters , and perhaps in men who are neither the one nor the other ...
Página 46
... simple story of some yellow - haired daughter of Urbino , whom he had wooed on the breezy heights of the Apennines , while yet he listened to the in- structions , and sat at the feet of old Pietro Perugino , and whose recompense for ...
... simple story of some yellow - haired daughter of Urbino , whom he had wooed on the breezy heights of the Apennines , while yet he listened to the in- structions , and sat at the feet of old Pietro Perugino , and whose recompense for ...
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Termos e frases comuns
acquaintance Allan Ramsay ambition ancient associations awakened beauty bliss bosom breathes Burns's character charms conversation criticism divine Duchess of Gordon Dugald Stewart Earl of Glencairn Edinburgh elements Ellisland embodied English expression exquisite fame fancy father feeling felt flowers frae genius give Glencairn glory Greek happy harp heart highest honor Hudibras human humble humor ideal impression inspiration labors letter literary literature living look manners Mary Campbell material imagery Mauchline mind moral muse nature never night noble o'er O'Shanter objects peasant peculiar Pietro Perugino pleasure poem poet poetic poetry rhyme Robert Burns satire says scene Scotland Scots Scots College Scottish Scottish literature seen sentiments songs soul spirit stream sweet sympathy Tam O'Shanter taste tender thing Thomson thou thought thro tion touch truth tune ture verses whole Whyles woman write written youth
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Página 54 - The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But, och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Página 80 - O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n devotion ! EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.
Página 169 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Página 79 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Página 79 - Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.
Página 164 - We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the substance or structure of our souls, so cannot account for those seeming caprices in them that one should be particularly pleased with this thing, or struck with that, which, on minds of a different cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the foxglove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Página 28 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Página 20 - And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green. To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon. Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Página 70 - And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling...
Página 20 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, 'Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i