The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . -fects. From great sanguineness of temper, from great quickness and unsuspectingsimplicity, he runs on to the public as he does at his own fireside,—and talks abouthimself, forgetting that he is not always among friends. This disposition, however,is also the main source of his success. His nature is essentially good; and what hewrites makes its way to the heart. The models he consults are the true old EnglishPoets; and the gayer spirits of Italy. He is a scholar, and a special lover of books;yet we never find in him a touch of ped
The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . -fects. From great sanguineness of temper, from great quickness and unsuspectingsimplicity, he runs on to the public as he does at his own fireside,—and talks abouthimself, forgetting that he is not always among friends. This disposition, however,is also the main source of his success. His nature is essentially good; and what hewrites makes its way to the heart. The models he consults are the true old EnglishPoets; and the gayer spirits of Italy. He is a scholar, and a special lover of books;yet we never find in him a touch of pedantry. His poetry is like his mind,—a sort ofbuoyant outbreak of joyousness; and when a tone of sadness pervades it, it is so gentle,confiding, and hoping, as to be far nearer allied to resignation than repining. Perhapsthere is no Poet who so completely pictures himself: it is a fine and natural and all-unselfish egotism; and a glorious contrast to the gloomy and misanthropic moods whichsome Bards have laboured first to acquire, and then to portray. ?V. ?W HUNT. tt- SONGS AND CHORUS OF THE FLOWERS. We are blushing with our fulness, Midst our close-cappd sister budsWarming the green coolness. Whatsoeer of beauty-Yearns and yet reposes. Blush, and bosom, and sweet a shape in roses. 154 Hold one of us lightly,—See from what a slender Stalk we bowr in heavy roundness rich and tender Know you not our only Rival flowr,—the human ? Loveliest weight on lightest foot,Joy-abundant woman ? We are lilies fair. The flower of virgin light;Nature held us forth, and said, Lo ! my thoughts of white. Ever since then, angels Hold us in their hands ;You may see them where they take In pictures their sweet stands. Like the gardens angels Also do we seem ;And not the less for being crownd With a golden dream. Could you see around us The enamourd would see it pale with bliss To hold a thing so fair. We are slumberous poppies. Lords of Lethe downs.
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Keywords: ., bookauthorwordsworthcollection, bookce, booksubjectenglishpoetry
