theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""He is young, / And yet the stamp of thought so tempers youth, / That all its fires are faded""",6059,"","Searching ""stamp"" and ""thought"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16054,2005-04-09 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:45:33 UTC,,"","Oft have I seen yon solitary man
Pacing the upland meadow. On his brow
Sits melancholy, mark'd with decent pride,
As it would fly the busy taunting world,
And feed upon reflection. Sometimes, near
The foot of an old tree, he takes his seat,
And with the page of legendary lore
Cheats the dull hour, while Evening's sober eye
Looks tearful as it closes. In the dell
By the swift brook he loiters, sad and mute,
Save when a struggling sigh, half murmur'd, steals
From his wrung bosom. To the rising Moon,
His eye rais'd wistfully, expression fraught,
He pours the cherish'd anguish of his soul,
Silent, yet eloquent: For not a sound
That might alarm the night's lone centinel,
The dull-ey'd Owl, escapes his trembling lip,
Unapt in supplication. He is young,
And yet the stamp of thought so tempers youth,
That all its fires are faded. What is He?
And why, when morning sails upon the breeze,
Fanning the blue hill's summit, does he stay
Loit'ring and sullen, like a truant boy,
Beside the woodland glen; or stretch'd along
On the green slope, watch his slow wasting form
Reflected, trembling, on the river's breast?",""
"","""Thrice he rose, and thrice / His feet recoil'd; and still the livid flame / Lengthen'd and quiver'd as the moaning wind / Pass'd thro' the rushy crevice, while his heart / Beat, like the death-watch, in his shudd'ring breast.""",6076,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""watch"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16085,2006-11-16 00:00:00 UTC,2013-10-15 17:59:06 UTC,,"","One dreary night, when winter's icy breath
Half petrified the scene, when not a star
Gleam'd o'er the bleak infinity of space,
Sudden the Hermit started from his couch
With painful agitation. On his cheek
The blanch'd interpreter of horror mute
Sat terribly impressive! In his breast
The ruddy fount of life convulsive flow'd,
And his broad eyes, fix'd motionless as death,
Gaz'd vacantly aghast! His feeble lamp
Was wasting rapidly; the biting gale
Pierc'd the thin texture of his narrow cell;
And silence, like a fearful centinel
Marking the peril which awaited near,
Conspir'd with sullen night to wrap the scene
In tenfold horrors. Thrice he rose, and thrice
His feet recoil'd; and still the livid flame
Lengthen'd and quiver'd as the moaning wind
Pass'd thro' the rushy crevice, while his heart
Beat, like the death-watch, in his shudd'ring breast.
(Cf. pp. 91-2 in 1800 Lyrical Tales)",""
"","""So the schemes / Rais'd by fond Hope in youth's unclouded morn, / While sanguine youth enjoys delusive dreams, / Experience withers; till scarce one remains / Flattering the languid heart, where only Reason reigns!""",7432,"",Reading,20623,2013-06-13 16:17:16 UTC,2013-06-13 16:17:35 UTC,,"","Sonnet LXXXV.
The fairest flowers are gone! for tempests fell,
And with wild wing swept some unblown away,
While on the upland lawn or rocky dell
More faded in the day-star's ardent ray;
And scarce the copse, or hedge-row shade beneath,
Or by the runnel's grassy course appear
Some lingering blossoms of the earlier year,
Mingling bright florets, in the yellow wreath
That Autumn with his poppies and his corn
Binds on his tawny temples--So the schemes
Rais'd by fond Hope in youth's unclouded morn,
While sanguine youth enjoys delusive dreams,
Experience withers; till scarce one remains
Flattering the languid heart, where only Reason reigns!",""