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Victorian Women Writers Project

Frost, R. Hopkins, G.


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Keats, J. Lawrence, D. Masters, E. Sandburg, C. Sassoon, S. Whitman, W. Wordsworth, W. Yeats, W. Roosevelt, T. Stein, G. Stevenson, R. Wells, H.

The Complete Poetical Works. First, the copy to be sent to the printer was collated throughout with the original editions in the British Museum; then the proof-sheets of the greater part, as they came from the press, were collated with other copies of the same editions obtained in this country. For them the standard text was manifestly that of the first edition.

Concerning these there might be doubt. A poet, for instance, who has written. For the first three books of the Faery Queen the problem is somewhat different. Since these were not an independent poem, but merely the first installment of his magnum opus, Spenser found occasion, when he republished them in along with the first issue of the second three books, to make certain changes. He rewrote a line or two which did not please him. In one place he inserted a new stanza. These changes, not more than a dozen or so in all, are unmistakably his work.

They bear every mark, that is, of being mere blunders of the printer due to hasty reading of copy: they do not spoil the sense, but they are too trivial and purposeless to be ascribed to the poet himself; sometimes they spoil the poetry. Under these circumstances the problem of the editor was not simple.

Part I. Ode for Music on St. Tofts, a Famous Opera-Singer. Canto I. Prologue to Mr. Chorus of Athenians. John Moore. Ode to Quinbus Flestrin. Lemuel Gulliver.

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On Certain Ladies. Thomas Southern. To Erinna.

The Dream with pressed rosebud from Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron 1st Edition 1

A Question by Anonymous. On Charles, Earl of Dorset. Digby and of His Sister Mary. Elijah Fenton. Francis Atterbury. The Design. Of the Knowledge and Characters of Men. Of the Characters of Women. Of the Use of Riches. To Mr. Addison, occasioned by His Dialogue on Medals. Epistle to Dr. John Donne, Dean of St. Martinus Scriblerus of the Poem. Book III. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. Rather with Samuel I beseech with tears, Speak, gracious Lord, oh, speak, thy servant hears. Let them be silent then; and thou alone, My God! Begone, ye Critics, and restrain your spite, Codrus writes on, and will forever write. When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre, Attentive blocks stand round you and admire.

Moore's Complete Poetical Works

Right then there passen by the way His Aunt, and eke her Daughters tway. Ducke in his trowses hath he hent, Not to be spied of ladies gent. Bette is to pine on coals and chalke, Then trust on Mon whose yerde can talke. Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall, And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.

Orpheus could charm the trees; but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he; A poet made the silent wood pursue; This vocal wood had drawn the poet too. Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, At random wounds, nor knows the wounds she gives; She views the story with attentive eyes, And pities Procris while her lover dies.

These silver drops, like morning dew, Foretell the fervor of the day: So from one cloud soft showers we view, And blasting lightnings burst away. But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain; Lost in the maze of words he turns again, And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign. But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are free, How Church and State should be obliged to thee! At Senate and at Bar how welcome wouldst thou be! She wears no colours sign of grace On any part except her face; All white and black beside: Dauntless her look, her gesture proud, Her voice theatrically loud, And masculine her stride.

The Complete Poetical Works of William Wordsworth | Cosimo's Collections & Series

So have I seen, in black and white, A prating thing, a magpie hight, Majestically stalk; A stately worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk. So have I known those insects fair Which curious Germans hold so rare Still vary shapes and dyes; Still gain new titles with new forms; First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms, Then painted butterflies. You, that too wise for pride, too good for power, Enjoy the glory to be great no more, And carrying with you all the world can boast, To all the world illustriously are lost!

Accept, O Garth! The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay, Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?