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Art thou autumn beauty beneath bliss blood blue bright brow calm cheeks clouds cold corse crown dark dead death dews divine Dost doth dream Dropt earth EDWARD eternal eternal eyes eyes face fair Fame fire flowers garden green Gawain gleaming gloom golden grave green grey hand happy hath heart heaven hero's heart hills hungry kiss Lady larks laugh leap light lips lonely look love thee Memnon midnight star mighty mong moon morn neath night o'er pale pallid passion pause Poesy Poet rain rich rills ringlets round sands scorn shining shore silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul stand stars stood stream summer sunbeams sunny sunset sweet sweet dreams tears thine thought to-night trees trembling VIOLET voice WALTER wandered waves weary weep wild wild heart Wilt wind woods youth
Page 26 - Books written when the soul is at spring-tide, When it is laden like a groaning sky • Before a thunder-storm, are power and gladness, And majesty and beauty. They seize the reader As tempests seize a ship, and bear him on With a wild joy. Some books are drenched sands, On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps, Like a wrecked argosy.
Page 122 - ... In Winter's front, so fair 'mong its dark peers, It seems a straggler from the files of June, Which in its wanderings had lost its wits, And half its beauty; and, when it returned, Finding its old companions gone away, It joined November's troop, then marching past ; And so the frail thing comes, and greets...
Page 90 - We twain have met like ships upon the sea, Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet ; One little hour ! and then, away they speed On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam, To meet no more.
Page 15 - Fame ! Fame ! Fame ! next grandest word to God ! 1 seek the look of Fame ! Poor fool — so tries Some lonely wanderer 'mong the desert sands By shouts to gain the notice of the Sphynx, Staring right on with calm eternal eyes.
Page 11 - ... years, My bubble pleasures, and my awful joys, As Hero gave her trembling sighs to find Delicious death on wet Leander's lip. Bare, bald, and tawdry, as a fingered moth, Is my poor life, but with one smile thou canst Clothe me with kingdoms. Wilt thou smile on me ? Wilt bid me die for thee ? 0 fair and cold ! As well may some wild maiden waste her love Upon the calm front of a marble Jove. I cannot draw regard of thy great eyes. I love thee, Poesy ! Thou art a rock, I, a weak wave, would break...
Page 188 - God is a worker. He has thickly strewn Infinity with grandeur. God is love ; He yet shall wipe away Creation's tears, And all the worlds shall summer in His smile.
Page 93 - The reason for this seems to be, that so abstract an idea as that attaching to the word
Page 198 - He told me once, The saddest thing that can befall a soul, Is when it loses faith in God and woman ; For he had lost them both — Lost I those gems — Though the world's throne stood empty in my path, I would go wandering back into my childhood, Searching for them with tears.
Page 30 - Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder harp of pines. When violets came and woods were green, And larks did skyward dart, A Love alit and white did sit Like an angel on his heart. The Lady Blanche was saintly fair, Nor proud, but meek her look; In her hazel eyes her thoughts lay clear As pebbles in a brook.
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