CMP 2850

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Keats La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake And no birds sing!

Blake "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence"

And I made a rural pen, and I stained the water clear

Blake "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence"

And I wrote my happy songs. Every child may joy to hear.

Blake- The chimney sweeper (songs of experience)

And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King, Who make up a heaven of our misery

Blake- The chimney sweeper (songs of experience)

And because I am happy, ,& dance & sing, They think they have done me no injury

Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

And by came an Angel who had a bright key, and he opened the coffins & set them all free

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body,

Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

And got with our bags & our brushes to work. Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm; So if all do their duty, they need not to fear harm

Blake - London

And mark in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

And passing even into my purere mind, With tranquil restoration:-feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence

Blake - London

And the hapless Soldier's sigh, Runs in blood down Palace walls

Blake, The Little Black Boy

And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair, and be like him, and he will then love me

Keats

And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dreamed, ah woe betide! The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill's side

Keats

And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering; Tough the sedge withered from the lake And no birds sing

Blake, The Little Black Boy

And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love,

Blake, "The Tyger", from Songs of Experience, 1794

And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

Blake, "The Tyger", from Songs of Experience, 1794

And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. once again i see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them

Blake- The chimney sweeper (songs of experience)

Because I was happy upon the heath, and smiled among the winter's snow

Blake London

Blasts the new-born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse

Blake Earth's Answer

Break this heavy chain, that does freeze my bones around;

Blake London

But most thro' midnight streets I hear, How the youthful Harlot's curse

Blake: the Lamb (From "Songs of Innocence")

By the stream & o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight; Softest clothing wooly bright;

Blake Earth's Answer

Can delight, Chained in light, The virgins of youth and morning bear?

Blake Earth's Answer

Cold and hoar, Weeping o'er, I hear the Father of the ancient men.

Blake, "The Tyger", from Songs of Experience, 1794

Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress

Blake Earth's Answer

Does spring hid its joy, When buds and blossoms grow?

Blake Earth's Answer

Does the sower, Sow by night, Or by the plowman in darkness plow?

Blake: the Lamb (From "Songs of Innocence")

Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life & bid thee feed

Blake earth's answer

Earth raised up her head, From the darkness dread & drear.

Bunina

Everything has withered; Poison flows In my veins

Bunina

Everything suddenly fell silent, Everything in its place, In the room it is quiet,

Blake, The Little Black Boy

For when our souls have learned the heat to bear, the clouds will vanish, we shall hear his voice,

Blake: the Lamb (From "Songs of Innocence")

Gave thee such a tender voice, making all the vales rejoice

Bunina

Gave voice; Sounds in harmony Sing with Lina

Blake, the sick rose

Has found out thy bed of crimson joy, and his dark secret love does thy life destroy

Blake: the Lamb (From "Songs of Innocence")

He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a lamb.

Blake: the Lamb (From "Songs of Innocence")

He is meek & he is mild, He became a little child

Heine

He's dreaming of a palm tree Far away in the Eastern land Lonely and silently mourning On a sunburn rocky strand

Blake earth's answer

Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks covered with grey despair.

Keats

I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragant zone; She looked at me as she did love And made sweet moan

Keats

I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful, a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light And her eyes were wild

Keats

I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warrios, death-pale were they all; They cried, La belle dame sans merci Thee hath in thrall

Keats

I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke, and found me here On the cold hill's side

Keats

I see lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks fading rose Fast withered too.

Keats

I set her on my pacing steed And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend and sing A faery's song

Blake, The Little Black Boy

I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear, To lean in joy upon our father's knee

Blake "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence"

In a book that all may read. So he vanished from my sight. And I plucked a hollow reed,

Bunina

In a rose flame The hearth gives light; The bright fire

Blake - London

In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear

Blake - London

In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forged manacles I hear:

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood , and felt along the heart;

Heine

In the North on a bare plateau.. He sleeps; a bright white blanket Enshrouds him in ice and snow

Blake The Tyger

In what distant deeps or skies, Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

Bunina

Leaps along the coals; The smoke dark-silver Curls in a column

Bunina

Lina touched The strings of the harp; The gold harp

Blake, The Little Black Boy

Look on the rising sun; there God does live, and gives his light, and gives his heat away

Blake, The Little Black Boy

My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day,

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened:-that serene and blessed mood, Until the breath of this corporeal frame

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed the moo, in which the burthen of the mystery In which the heavy and the weary weight

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!

Blake "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence"

On a cloud I saw a child. And he laughing said to me

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

On that best portion of a good man's llife, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of Kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift,

Blake The Tyger

On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?

Blake earth's answer

Prisoned on watery shore, Starry jealousy does keep keep my den,

Blake, The Little Black Boy

Saying: Come out from the grove, my love & care, and round my golden tent like lambs rejoice

Bunina

Sea, start to churn! Be a grave for me! Golden harp,

Blake Earth's Answer

Selfish father of men, cruel jealous, selfish fear!

Blake Earth's Answer

Selfish! vain! Eternal bane! That free Love with bondage bound.

Keats

She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna's dew, And sure in language strange she said I love thee true

Blake, The Little Black Boy

She took me on her lap and kissed me, And pointing to the east began to say.

Keats

She took me to her elfin grot And there she wept and sighed full sore And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four

Blake "Introduction to the Songs of Innocence"

Sing thy songs of happy chear. So I sung the same again. While he wept with joy to hear.

Keats La Belle Dame Sans Merci

So haggard, and so woebegone? The squirrel's granary is full And the harvest's done

Bunina

Strike like thunder! Fire, flow, Warm this poor woman!

Bunina

Tears ran dry In troubled eyes, Sights stopped

Bunina From the Seashore

The Bright Sea Flowed from the sky, In quiet the waves Brief ripples Faint Temble

Bunina

The chest from heaving, Speech dies down On cold lips

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

The day is come when I again repose Here , under this dark sycamore, and view

Bunina

The fierce flame scorches the sould; The heart languishes,

Blake, the sick rose

The invisible worm, that flies in the night, In the howling storm,

Bunina From the Seashore

The sun's gone down, There is no moon, In the scarlet glow

Bunina From the Seashore

The west is shining Birds in their nests, FLocks in the tree-crests

Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind

Bunina

There is no rustle; The children are nestled Modestly in the corners

Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard tufts Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs, With a soft inland murmur--Once again

Blake- The chimney sweeper (songs of experience)

They clothed me in the clothes of death, And taught me to sing the notes of woe

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The Landscape with the quiet of the sky.

Blake, The Tyger

What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Blake, The Tyger

What the anvil? What dread grasp dare its deadly terrors clasp?

Blake, The Tyger

What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain?

Blake, "The Tyger", from Songs of Experience, 1794

When the stars threw down their spears, and watered heaven with their tears,

Wordsworth- Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The hermit sits alone

Blake, The Little Black Boy

and flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noon of day

Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run, And wash in a river and shine in the sun


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