Out of the Night

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Hodder & Stoughton, 1910 - 390 psl.
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Populiarios ištraukos

328 psl. - Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
234 psl. - All which I took from thee I did but take, Not for thy harms, But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms. All which thy child's mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home: Rise, clasp My hand, and come ! " Halts by me that footfall : Is my gloom, after all, Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
319 psl. - God, who hast given us grace at this time with one accord to make our common supplications unto thee; and dost promise that when two or three are gathered together in thy Name thou wilt grant their requests; Fulfil now, O Lord, the desires and petitions of thy servants, as may be most expedient for them; granting us in this world knowledge of thy truth, and in the world to come life everlasting.
98 psl. - And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
221 psl. - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate...
138 psl. - Then we began to ride. My soul Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll Freshening and fluttering in the wind. Past hopes already lay behind. What need to strive with a life awry? Had I said that, had I done this, So might I gain, so might I miss.
120 psl. - My soul is athirst for God, yea, even for the living God : when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?
343 psl. - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully; Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her; All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful; Past all dishonour, Death has left on her Only the beautiful Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family; Wipe those poor lips of hers, Oozing so clammily.
74 psl. - Ah, World of ours, are you so gray And weary, World, of spinning, That you repeat the tales to-day You told at the beginning ? For lo ! the same old myths that made The early " stage successes," Still "hold the boards," and still are played, "With new effects and dresses.
169 psl. - Farther, farther — I see it — know it — My eyes brim over, it melts away : Only my heart to my heart shall show it As I walk desolate day by day.

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