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86 Cards in this Set
- Front
- Back
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"The world is too much with us, late and soon
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers Little we see in Nature that is ours We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!" |
The World is Too Much With Us
William Wordsworth Written: 1802-1804 Published: 1807 |
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"This Sea that bears her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers For this, for every thing, we are out of tune" |
The World is Too Much With Us
William Wordsworth Written: 1802-1804 Published: 1807 |
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"It moves us not - Great God! I'd rather be"
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The World is Too Much With Us
William Wordsworth Written: 1802-1804 Published: 1807 |
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"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee I saw the every day and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! So like, very like, was day to day! Whene'er I looked, the Image still was there; It trembled, but it never passed away How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep No mood which season takes away, or brings: I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things." |
Elegaic Stanzas
William Wordsworth Written: Summer 1806 Published: 1807 |
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"Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream;" |
Elegaic Stanzas
William Wordsworth Written: Summer 1806 Published: 1807 |
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"Not without hope we suffer an we mourn."
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Elegaic Stanzas
William Wordsworth Written: Summer 1806 Published: 1807 |
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"Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dram, at distance from the Kind Such happiness, wherever it be known Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind. But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer And frequent sights of what is to be borne! Such sights or worse, as are before me here. -- Not without hope we suffer and we mourn." |
Elegaic Stanzas
William Wordsworth Written: Summer 1806 Published: 1807 |
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"Behold her, single in the field
Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and bind the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound." |
The Solitary Reaper
William Wordsworth Written: Nov, 5 1805 Published: 1807 |
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"No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring time from the Cuckoo-bird Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides" |
The Solitary Reaper
William Wordsworth Written: Nov, 5 1805 Published: 1807 |
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"Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been and may be again?" |
The Solitary Reaper
William Wordsworth Written: Nov, 5 1805 Published: 1807 |
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"Whate'er the theme, the Maiden song
As if her song could have no ending I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;-- I listened motionless and still; And as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more." |
The Solitary Reaper
William Wordsworth Written: Nov, 5 1805 Published: 1807 |
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"Thoughts of more deep seclusion and connect"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye But oft, in lonely room and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration - feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. Not less I trust, To them I may have owed another gift Of aspect more sublime, that blessed mod, In which the burthen of the mystery In which the heavy and weary weight Is lightened; - the serene and blessed mood In which the affections gently lead us on - Until the breath of the corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things |
Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh how oft - In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart - How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee" |
Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"To me was all in all - I cannot paint"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"To me was in all - I cannot paint
What then I as . 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 - That time is past" |
Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"All thinking things, all objects of all thought"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"Of holier love. Nor wilt though then forget"
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Lines (Tintern Abbey)
William Wordsworth Written: July 1798 Published: 1798 |
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"A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye! - Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky." |
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
William Wordsworth Written: 1799 Published: 1800 |
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"A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees" |
A slumber did my spirit seal
William Wordsworth Written: 1799 Published: 1800 |
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"Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones"
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Nutting
William Wordsworth Written: 1798 Published: 1800 |
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"Then dearest Maiden, move along these shades"
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Nutting
William Wordsworth Written: 1798 Published: 1800 |
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"Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody Poor And Mercy no more could be, If we were as happy as we" |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase; Then Cruelty knits a snare, And spreads his baits with care" |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"He sits down with holy fears
And waters the ground with tears; Then Humility takes its root Underneath his foot." |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head; And the Caterpillar and Fly Feed on the Mystery" |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"And it bears the fruit of Deceit
Ruddy and sweet to eat; And the Raven his nest has made In its thickest shade" |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"The Gods of the Earth and sea
Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree, But their search was all in vain There grows one in the Human Brain" |
The Human Abstract
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"O Rose, thou art sick
The invisible worm That flies in the night In the howling storm Has fount out thy best Of crimson joy And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy" |
The Sick Rose
William Blake Published: 1794 |
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"My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereav'd of light." |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And sitting down before the heat of day She took me on her lap and kissed me And pointing to the east, began to say" |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"Look on the rising sun: there God does live
And gives his light, and gives his heat away; And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in the morning, joy in the noon day" |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"And we are put on earth a little space
That we may learn to bear the beams of love And these black bodies, and this sun-burnt face Is but a cloud and like a shady grove" |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"For when our sould have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish, we shall hear his voice, Saying: Come out from the grove, my love & care And round my golden tent like lambs reoice.'" |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"Thus did my mother say, and kissed me
And thus I say to little English boy When I from black and he from white clouds free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy" |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our father's knee. And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair And be like him, and he will then love me." |
The Little Black Boy
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies The merry bell ring To welcome the Spring The sky lark and thrush The birds of the bush Sing louder around To the bells' cheerful sound While our sports shall be seen On the Ecchoing Green" |
The Ecchoing Green
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"Old John with white hair
Does laugh away care Sitting under the oak, Among the old folk They laugh at our play, And soon they all say: "Such, such were the joys When we all girls & boys In our youth-time were seen On the Ecchoing Green" |
The Ecchoing Green
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry The sun does descend And our sports have an end: Round the laps of their mothers, Many sisters and brothers, Like birds in their nest Are ready for rest; And sport no more seen, On the darkening Green." |
The Ecchoing Green
William Blake Published: 1789 |
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"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings does he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"And what shoulder, & what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"When the stars threw down their spears?
And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame the fearful symmetry?" |
The Tyger
William Blake Written: 1790-1792 Published: 1794 |
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"Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity."
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Proverbs of Hell
William Blake Written: 1790-1793 |
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"He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence"
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Proverbs of Hell
William Blake Written: 1790-1793 |
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"Shame is Pride's cloak"
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Proverbs of Hell
William Blake Written: 1790-1793 |
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"Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion"
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Proverbs of Hell
William Blake Written: 1790-1793 |
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"The pride of the peacock is the glory of God
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God The nakedness of the woman is the work of God" |
Proverbs of Hell
William Blake Written: 1790-1793 |
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"Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravished hair,
Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost For, after all the murders of your eye When after millions slain, yourself shall die When those fair suns shall set, as set they must And all those tresses shall be laid in dust This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name" |
The Rape of the Lock
Alexander Pope Written: 1712 Published: 1714 |
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"Favors to none, to all she smiles extends,
Oft she rejects, but never once offends Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike And like the sun they shine on all alike Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide If to her share some female errors fall Look on her face and you'll forget 'em all" |
The Rape of the Lock
Alexander Pope Written: 1712 Published: 1714 |
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"This nymph, to the destruction of mankind
Nourished two locks which graceful hung behind In equal curls, and well conspired to deck With shining ringlets her smooth ivory neck. Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains And mighty hearts are held in slender chains With hairy springes we the birds betray Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare And beauty draws us with a single hair" |
The Rape of the Lock
Alexander Pope Written: 1712 Published: 1714 |
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"The adventurous Baron the bright locks admired
He saw, he wished and to the prize aspired Resolved to win, he mediates the way By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; For when success a lover's toil attends Few ask if fraud or force attained his ends" |
The Rape of the Lock
Alexander Pope Written: 1712 Published: 1714 |
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"For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored
Propritious Heaver and every power adored But chiefly Love - to Love an altar built. Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt" |
The Rape of the Lock
Alexander Pope Written: 1712 Published: 1714 |
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"The sickening stars fade off the ethereal plain
As Argus' yes by Hermes' wand oppressed Closed one by one to everlasting rest Thus at her felt approach and secret might Art after Art goes out, and all is Night See sulking Truth to her old cavern fled Mountains of casuistry heaped o'er her head! Philosophy that leaned on Heaven before Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more." |
The Dunicard
The Carnation and the Butterfly Alexander Pope Published: 1743 |
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"Of all the causes which conspire to blind
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind What the weak head with strongest bias rules Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools Whatever Nature has in worth denied She gives in large recruits of needful pride For as in bodies thus in souls we find What wants in blood and spirits, swelled with wind: Pride where wit fails steps in to our defense And fills up all the mighty void of sense If once right reason drives the cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with resistless day Trust not yourself: but your defects to know Make use of every friend - and every foe" |
An Essay on Criticism
Alexander Pope Written: 1709 Published: 1711 |
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"These equal syllables alone require"
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An Essay on Criticism
Alexander Pope Written: 1709 Published: 1711 |
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"At length by so much importunity pressed
Take (Molly) at once, the inside of my breast This stupid indifference so often you blame Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to shame I am not as cold as a Virgin in lead Nor is Sunday's sermon so strong in my head I know but too well how time flies along, That we live but few years and fewer are young" |
The Lover: A Ballad
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Published: 1747 |
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Ho long do you retain completed QDR's (SF-368)?
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2 year after completion date
(SPPM, 3-I-13) |
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"No pedant yet learned, not rakehelly gay
Or laughing because he has nothing to say to all my whole sex obliging and free Yet never be fond of any but me; In public preserve the decorums are just And show in his eyes, he is true to his trust Then rarely approach and respectfully bow Yet not fulsomely pert, nor yet foppishly low." |
The Lover: A Ballad
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Published: 1747 |
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"But when the long hours of public are past"
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The Lover: A Ballad
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Published: 1747 |
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"And that my delight may be solidly fixed"
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The Lover: A Ballad
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Published: 1747 |
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"I never will share with the wanton coquette"
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The Lover: A Ballad
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Published: 1747 |
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"When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high piled books in charactry? Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain; When I behold upon the night's starr'd face Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance And when I feel, fair creature of an hour That I shall never look upon thee more Never have relish in the fairy power Of unreflecting love; then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink" |
When I have fears that I may cease to be
John Keats Written: Jan 1818 Published: 1848 |
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"Full on this casement shone the wintry moon
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, and on her silver cross soft amethyst And on her hair a glory like a saint She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest Save wings for heaven: - Porphyro grew faint She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint Anon his heart revives, her vespers done, Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees? Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees Half hidden, like a mermaid in sea weed Pensive awhile she dreams awake and sees In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed," |
The Eve of St. Agnes
John Keats Written: Jan-Feb 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one"
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The Eve of St. Agnes
John Keats Written: Jan-Feb 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Her eyes were open, but she still beheld"
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The Eve of St. Agnes
John Keats Written: Jan-Feb 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set"
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The Eve of St. Agnes
John Keats Written: Jan-Feb 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dream'd - Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill's side I saw pale kings, and princes too Pale warriors, death pale were they all They cried - "La belle dame sans merci Hath thee in thrall!" I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side And this is why I sojourn here" |
La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad
John Keats Written: April 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane tight rooted for its poisonous wine Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserphine? Make not your rosary of yew-berries Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries For shade to shade will come too drowsily And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul" |
Ode on Melancholy
John Keats Written: 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"No, no go not to Lethe, neither twist"
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Ode on Melancholy
John Keats Written: 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes"
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Ode on Melancholy
John Keats Written: 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die
And Joy whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu and aching Pleasure nigh Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips Ay in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine" |
Ode on Melancholy
John Keats Written: 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue"
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Ode on Melancholy
John Keats Written: 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'
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To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core To swell the gourd; and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel, to set budding more And still more, later flowers for the bees Until they think warm days will never cease For summer has o'er brimm'd their clammy cells" |
To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind Or on a half reap'd furrow sound asleep Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twinned flowers And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook Or by a cyder-press with patient look Thou watchest the last oozing hours by hours" |
To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Then in the wailful choir the small gnats mourn"
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To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"Among the river sallows borne aloft"
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To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"And gathering swallows twitter in the skies"
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To Autumn
John Keats Written: Sept, 19th 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"O brightest! though too late for antique vows
Too, too late for the fond believing lyre When holy were the haunted forest boughs Holy the air, the water, and the fire Yet even in these days so far retir'd From happy pieties thy lucent fans Fluttering among the faint Olympians I see and sing by my own eyes inspired So let me be thy choir and make a moan Upon the midnight hours Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet From swinged censer teeming Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat Of pale mouth'd prophet dreaming" |
Ode to Psyche
John Keats Written: April 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain"
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Ode to Psyche
John Keats Written: April 1819 Published: 1820 |
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"To let the warm Love in!"
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Ode to Psyche
John Keats Written: April 1819 Published: 1820 |
