hide Matching Documents

The documents where this entity occurs most often are shown below. Click on a document to open it.

Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
James Russell Lowell, Among my books 56 0 Browse Search
John Harrison Wilson, The life of Charles Henry Dana 16 0 Browse Search
Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters 10 0 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2 10 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 10 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 2 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 10 0 Browse Search
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing) 8 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 8 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays 7 1 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life 6 0 Browse Search
View all matching documents...

Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for Coleridge or search for Coleridge in all documents.

Your search returned 4 results in 1 document section:

The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Tales and Sketches (search)
subject, he considered it, on the whole, a happy circumstance. But, for my own part, I cannot say with the Mariner in Coleridge's ballad, that At an uncertain hour My agony returns; And, till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. herself, pouring forth the soft current of its exquisite cadence, which alone absorbed the attention. Like that one of Coleridge's heroines, you could half feel, half fancy, that it had a separate being of its own, a spiritual presence manifested ts and dusty avenues, at the sight of these poor peasants I have gone in thought to the vale of Chamouny, and seen, with Coleridge, the morning star pausing on the bald, awful head of sovereign Blanc, and the sun rise and set upon snowy-crested mountcoincide with their taste, nor the other with their narrow notions of personal convenience. In one of his early poems, Coleridge has well expressed a truth, which is not the less important because it is not generally admitted. The idea is briefly