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God being with thee when we know it not. " It is a beauteous evening, calm and free " is a sonnet by William Wordsworth written at Calais in August 1802. It was first published in the collection Poems, in Two Volumes in 1807, appearing as the nineteenth poem in a section entitled 'Miscellaneous sonnets'.
We slowly drove — He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility — We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess — in the Ring — We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain — We passed the Setting Sun — Or rather — He passed Us — The Dews drew quivering and Chill — For only Gossamer, my Gown —
The poem does not have a deep, hidden, symbolic meaning. Rather, it is simply pleasurable to read, say, and hear. Critical terminology becomes useful when one attempts to account for why the language is pleasurable, and how Byron achieved this effect. The lines are not simply rhythmic: the rhythm is regular within a line, and is the same for ...
"Locksley Hall" is a poem written by Alfred Tennyson in 1835 and published in his 1842 collection of Poems. It narrates the emotions of a rejected suitor upon coming to his childhood home, an apparently fictional Locksley Hall, though in fact Tennyson was a guest of the Arundel family in their stately home named Loxley Hall, in Staffordshire, where he spent much of his time writing whilst on ...
John A. Rea wrote about the poem's "alliterative symmetry", citing as examples the second line's "hardest – hue – hold" and the seventh's "dawn – down – day"; he also points out how the "stressed vowel nuclei also contribute strongly to the structure of the poem" since the back round diphthongs bind the lines of the poem's first ...
"Reba was crying, I was crying, I’m trying to hold them, push them back up, but ... nothing I can do about them, they’re just gonna keep falling down," the rapper said of his tears. "Truly ...
One leaf in the still air falls slowly down, A magpie's spotted feathers lie On the black earth spread white with rime, The berries redden up to Christmas-time. What's Christmas-time without there be Some other in the house than we! She sleeps up in the attic there Alone, poor maid. 'Tis but a stair Betwixt us. Oh! my God! the down,
Once I recall the sights seen floating down that stream of consciousness. It also explains why we all have so many seemingly random memories. Often in my journal, I try to track down those ...