Greenwood leaves: a collection of sketches and letters

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1853 - Drama - 406 pages
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Page 75 - 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 15 - Give but a flattering light; We should suspect some danger nigh Where we possess delight. 3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends, The partners of our blood, How they divide our wavering minds, And leave but half for God!
Page 58 - Oh, our Sophocles, the royal. Who was born to monarch's place — And who made the whole world loyal, Less by kingly power than grace. Our Euripides, the human — With his droppings of warm tears ; And his touches of things common, Till they rose to touch the spheres...
Page 60 - Meet, mix, and deepen. All things unto me Shew their dark sides. Somewhere there must be light. Oh ! I feel like a seed in the cold earth ; Quickening at heart, and pining for the air.
Page 322 - A creature not too bright nor good For human nature's daily food — For transient sorrow, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
Page 55 - What I most prize in woman Is her affections, not her intellect ! The intellect is finite ; but the affections Are infinite, and cannot be exhausted.
Page 121 - It has come over gardens, and the flowers That kissed it are betrayed ; for as it parts, With its invisible fingers, my loose hair, I know it has been trifling with the rose, And stooping to the violet. There is joy For all God's creatures...
Page 58 - And I think of those long mornings Which my thought goes far to seek, When, betwixt the folio's turnings, Solemn flowed the rhythmic Greek. Past the pane, the mountain spreading, Swept the sheep-bell's tinkling noise, While a girlish voice was reading Somewhat low for ai's and oit.
Page 58 - Then what golden hours were for us! While we sat together there, How the white vests of the Chorus Seemed to wave up a live air ! How the Cothurns trod majestic Down the deep Iambic lines ! And the rolling anapaestic Curled, like vapour over shrines!
Page 384 - ... divided into four quarters, to be disposed of as Her Majesty shall think fit. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

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