Festus: A Poem

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J. Miller, 1862 - English poetry - 391 pages
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Page 77 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most — feels the noblest — acts the best.
Page 96 - I am for judgment: that will settle both. Nothing is to be done without destruction. Death is the universal salt of states; Blood is the base of all things — law and war, I could tame this lion age to follow me. I should like to macadamize the world; The road to Hell wants mending.
Page 7 - Poetry is itself a thing of God; He made His prophets poets; and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power, — under-makers.
Page 38 - Earth may some purer beings' presence bear ; Mayhap even God may walk among His saints, In eminence and brightness like yon moon, Mildly outbeaming all the beads of light Strung o'er night's proud dark brow. How strangely fair Yon round still star, which looks half suffering from, And half rejoicing in its own strong fire ; Making itself a lonelihood of light, Like Deity, where'er in Heaven it dwells. How can the beauty of material things So win the heart and work upon the mind, Unless like-natured...
Page 177 - Oh ! love is like the rose, And a month it may not see, Ere it withers where it grows — Rosalie ! I loved thee from afar ; Oh ! my heart was lift to thee Like a glass up to a star — Rosalie! Thine eye was glassed in mine As the moon is in the sea, And its shine was on the brine — Rosalie ! The rose hath lost its red, And the star is in the sea, And the briny tear is shed — • Rosalie ! FESTUS.
Page 283 - And something — all things — nothing — it was Death, Said, as before, from air — Let us to God ! And straight we rose, leaving behind the raw Worms and dead gods, all of us — soared and soared Right upwards, till the star I told thee of Looked like a moon — the moon became a sun : The sun — there came a hand between the sun and us, And its five fingers made five nights in air.
Page 265 - Words are the motes of thought, and nothing more. Words are like sea-shells on the shore; they show Where the mind ends, and not how far it has been.
Page 258 - Death is another life. We bow our heads At going out, we think, and enter straight Another golden chamber of the king's, Larger than this we leave, and lovelier.
Page 104 - America ! half-brother of the world ! With something good and bad of every land ; Greater than thee have lost their seat — Greater scarce none can stand. Thy flag now flouts the skies, The highest under Heaven ; Save the red cross, whereto are given All victories.
Page 236 - He must believe the best of every thing; Love all below, and worship all above. All animals are living hieroglyphs. The dashing dog, and stealthy-stepping cat, Hawk, bull, and all that breathe, mean something more To the true eye than their shapes show; for all Were made in love and made to be beloved.

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