The Use of Color in the Verse of the English Romantic PoetsUniversity of Chicago Press, 1898 - 118 頁 |
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常見字詞
æsthetic amber average azure black beauty black azure blue black blue dark blush bright brown Byron Castle of Indolence cent cerulean Chaucer Childe Harold chrysolite classes as follows clouds coal-black Coleridge Coleridge's color-average color-interest color-scale color-terms color-treatment color-vocabulary color-words colorist Confessio Amantis Cowper crimson dark green distributed in classes Dunciad dusky ebon Elizabethan emerald English poetry English poets Epips fields of interest flush gilded gold golden Gower gray Havelock Ellis hoar hoary hues human coloring ivory Keats Keats's Langland light livid milk-white Milton Nature Number of lines onyms pale pallid percentages poems poet's poetic poetry Pope Pope's Prel purple Romantic Romanticists roseate rosy ruby ruddy russet sable sallow sanguine sapphire scarlet scenes Scott shade Shakspere's Shelley Shelley's silver white snow-white snowy snowy white Spenser sunburnt swart swarthy Table VII tawny Thomson tints tion verdant verse violet vocabulary wan white watchet words Wordsworth
熱門章節
第 78 頁 - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings ; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
第 16 頁 - See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground, Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, 115 His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings and breast that flames with gold ? Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny.
第 56 頁 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
第 50 頁 - All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green: And still I gaze — and with how blank an eye And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, That give away their motion to the stars...
第 65 頁 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
第 25 頁 - Hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm ? When from the pallid sky the sun descends, With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red fiery streaks Begin to flush around.
第 50 頁 - My genial spirits fail; And what can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? It were a vain endeavour, Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
第 17 頁 - The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains. Now Cancer glows with Phoebus...
第 13 頁 - Or of the eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite.
第 20 頁 - twould a saint provoke" (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke), " No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead— And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.