But hark! what shriek of death comes in the gale, And in the distant ray what glimmering sail Bends to the storm? Now sinks the note of fear! Ah? wretched mariners! no more shall day Unclose his cheering eye to light ye on your way!
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscapes on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.thomas gray
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.Tennyson
Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strongTell eager Tales of mighty Deeds;Enough if my sequestered songTo hush'd and twilight Gardens leads!Clear Waters, drawn from secret WellsPerchance may fevered Lips assuage;The Tales an elder Pilgrim tellsTo such as go on Pilgrimage.Such the soft Path my Words would trace,Thus with the moving Waters move;So leave, across the Ocean's Face,A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love.a. c. benson
Oh, rather give me commentators plain,Who with no deep researches vex the brain;Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.George Crabbe
Carol, every violet hasHeaven for a looking-glass!Every little valley liesUnder many-clouded skies;Every little cottage standsGirt about with boundless lands;Every little glimmering pondClaims the mighty shores beyond;Shores no seaman ever hailed,Seas no ship has ever sailed.All the shores when day is doneFade into the setting sun,So the story tries to teachMore than can be told in speech.Alfred Noyes
It seems to me the charm of etching is the glimmering through of the white paper even in the shadows so that almost everything sparkles or suggest sparkles.samuel palmer
It was a very young man's confession of faith, and yet there was the glimmering of a truth at the back of it. It was my instinctive protest against the undue simplification of life. We are all a strange compound, and we shall never reach our full stature by starving certain parts of our nature of their due.john buchan
Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers Is reason to the soul; and as on high Those rolling fires discover but the sky Not light us here, so reason's glimmering ray Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day: And as those nightly tapers disappear When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere, So pale grows reason at religion's sight, So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.john dryden
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.thomas gray
On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.czesław miłosz
And others came... Desires and Adorations, Winged Persuasions and veiled Destinies, Splendours, and GloOms, and glimmering Incarnations Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies; And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp; the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.Percy Bysshe Shelley
Next morning, when the golden sunne was risen, And new had bid good morrow to the mountaines; When night her silver light had lockt in prison, Which gave a glimmering on the christall fountaines: Then ended sleepe, and then my cares began, Ev'n with the uprising of the silver swan. Oh, glorious sunne! quoth I, viewing the sunne, That lightenst everie thing but me alone: Why is my summer season almost done, My spring-time past, and ages autumne gone? My harvest's come, and yet I reapt no corne: My love is great, and yet I am forlorne.
Because its myriad glimmering plumes Like a great army's stir and wave; Because its golden billows blooms, The poor man's barren walks to lave: Because its sun-shaped blossoms show How souls receive the light of God, And unto earth give back that glow I thank him for the Goldenrod.lucy larcom
Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today Here in the garden; had you seen the place When Sutherland was living! Here they grew, From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each A golden dazzle like a glimmering star, Each broader, bigger than a silver crown; While here the weaver sat, his labor done, Watching his azure pets and rearing them, Until they seem'd to know his step and touch, And stir beneath his smile like living things: The very sunshine loved them, and would lie Here happy, coming early, lingering late, Because they were so fair.
Oh! rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain; Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.George Crabbe
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Twilight, a timid fawn, went glimmering by. And Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast.
I was heavy with the even, When she lit her glimmering tapers Round the day's dead sanctities. I laughed in the morning's eyes.Francis Thompson
Gone glimmering through the dream of things that were.lord byron
Ancient of days! august Athena! where, Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? Gone glimmering through the dream of things that were; First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and pass'd away Is this the whole?lord byron
Next morning, when the golden sunne was risen,And new had bid good morrow to the mountaines;When night her silver light had lockt in prison,Which gave a glimmering on the christall fountaines:Then ended sleepe, and then my cares began,Ev'n with the uprising of the silver swan.Oh, glorious sunne! quoth I, viewing the sunne,That lightenst everie thing but me alone:Why is my summer season almost done,My spring-time past, and ages autumne gone?My harvest's come, and yet I reapt no corne:My love is great, and yet I am forlorne.richard barnfield
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