Poems (Google eBook)

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Edward Moxon, 1856 - 379 pages
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Page 199 - And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
Page 11 - He cometh not,' she said ; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
Page 271 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 283 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Page 279 - With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm ; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battleflags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.
Page 268 - Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro...
Page 335 - Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board, no helmsman steers, I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars.
Page 142 - In the afternoon they came unto a land, In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams ! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go ; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
Page 70 - In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot.
Page 195 - King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.

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