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Small, Maynard, 1906 - 172 pages
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Page 25 - Evolution Out of the dusk a shadow, Then, a spark; Out of the cloud a silence, Then, a lark; Out of the heart a rapture, Then, a pain; Out of the dead, cold ashes, Life again.
Page 72 - Tho' the sun Hath my vesture spun, He had laboured, alas, in vain, But for the shade That the Cloud hath made, And the gift of the Dew and the Rain," Then laugh and upturn All your fronds, little Fern, And rejoice in the beat of the rain ! John B.
Page 56 - IT is the mountain to the sea That makes a messenger of me: And, lest I loiter on the way And lose what I am sent to say, He sets his reverie to song And bids me sing it all day long. Farewell! for here the stream is slow, And I have many a mile to go.
Page 149 - O SHADOW, in thy fleeting form I see The friend of fortune that once clung to me. In flattering light, thy constancy is shown; In darkness, thou wilt leave me all alone.
Page 21 - OVER the sea, over the sea, My love he is gone to a far countrie; But he brake a golden ring with me The pledge of his faith to be. Over the sea, over the sea, He comes no more from the far countrie; But at night, where the new moon loved to be, Hangs the half of a ring for me.
Page 108 - And pray, who are you ? " Said the violet blue To the Bee, with surprise At his wonderful size. In her eye-glass of dew. " I, madam," quoth he, " Am a publican Bee, Collecting the tax Of honey and wax.
Page 9 - I KNEW she lay above me, Where the casement all the night Shone, softened with a phosphor glow Of sympathetic light, And that her fledgling spirit pure Was pluming fast for flight. Each tendril throbbed and quickened As I nightly climbed apace, And could scarce restrain the blossoms When, anear the destined place, Her gentle whisper thrilled me Ere I gazed upon her face. I waited, darkling, till the dawn Should touch me into bloom, While all my being panted To outpour its first perfume, When, lo!...
Page 50 - HE entered; but the mask he wore Concealed his face from me. Still, something I had seen before He brought to memory. Who art thou ? What thy rank, thy name ? I questioned, with surprise, " Thyself" the laughing answer came, '
Page 4 - AND dost thou lead him hence with thee, O setting sun, And leave the shadows all to me When he is gone ? Ah, if my grief his guerdon be, My dark his light, I count each loss felicity, And bless the night.
Page 143 - CLOSE cleaving unto Silence, into sound She ventures as a timorous child from land, Still glancing, at each wary step, around, Lest suddenly she lose her sister's hand.

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