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Page 35 - With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow ; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd — " I came like Water, and like Wind I go.
Page 97 - And ere to bed Go we, go we, Down on the ashes We kneel on the knee, Praying together! Thus, then, live I, Till, 'mid all the gloom, By heaven! the bold sun Is with me in the room Shining, shining! Then the clouds part, Swallows soaring between; The spring is alive, And the meadows are green ! I jump up, like mad, Break the old pipe in twain, And away to the meadows, The meadows again...
Page 35 - Into this Universe, and Why not knowing, Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Page xiv - Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
Page 35 - Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument About it and about; but evermore Came out by the same door where in I went.
Page 105 - Call'd them one by one again To the church — and left them there! They with all their loves and passions, Compliment, and song, and jest, Politics, and sports, and fashions, Merged in everlasting rest! So they pass — while thou, old Mansion, Markest with unalter'd face How like the foliage of thy summers Race of man succeeds to race. To most thou stand'st a...
Page 39 - The surf bark from the Nor'ard " ; or, as was otherwise said to me, " the sea aint lost his woice from the Nor'ard yet," a sign, by the way, that the wind is to come from that quarter. A poetical word, such as those whose business is with the sea are apt to use. Listening one night to the sea some way inland, a sailor said to me, " Yes, sir, the sea roar for the loss of the wind " ; which a landsman properly interpreted as only meaning that the sea made itself heard when the wind had subsided. BARM-SKIN....
Page 108 - CHRONOMOROS IN ALL the actions that a Man performs, some part of his life passeth. We die with doing that, for which only our sliding life was granted. Nay, though we do nothing, Time keeps his constant pace, and flies as fast in idlenesse, as in employment. Whether we play, or labour, or sleep, or dance, or study, The Sunne posteth, and the Sand runnes.