The English Poems of Richard Crashaw

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Methuen, 1901 - 218 pages
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Page 122 - O thou undaunted daughter of desires ! By all thy dower of lights and fires ; By all the eagle in thee, all the dove; By all thy lives and deaths of love; By thy large draughts of intellectual day...
Page 163 - And teach her fair steps to our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine ; Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd my absent kisses.
Page 142 - THE TEMPLE TO PRAY.' Two went to pray? O, rather say, One went to brag, the other to pray; One stands up close and treads on high, Where the other dares not lend his eye; One nearer to God's altar trod, The other to the altar's God.
Page 51 - Tityrus, where th' hast been, Tell him, Thyrsis, what th' hast seen. Tityrus. Gloomy night embraced the place Where the noble infant lay: The babe looked up, and showed his face: In spite of darkness it was day. It was thy day, sweet, and did rise, Not from the east but from thine eyes.
Page 122 - Heaven thou hast in Him (Fair sister of the seraphim !) By all of Him we have in thee ; Leave nothing of myself in me. Let me so read thy life, that I Unto all life of mine may die.
Page 6 - Not in the evening's eyes, When they red with weeping are For the sun that dies, Sits sorrow with a face so fair; Nowhere but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.
Page 166 - Life, that dares send A challenge to his end. And when it comes, say, "Welcome, friend !" Sydneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
Page 115 - Loves his death, and dies again. And would for ever so be slain; And lives, and dies, and knows not why To live, but that he thus may never leave to die!
Page 119 - Make not too much haste to admire That fair-cheek'd fallacy of fire. That is a seraphim, they say, And this the great Teresia. Readers, be ruled by me ; and make Here a well-placed and wise mistake ; You must transpose the picture quite, And spell it wrong to read it right ; Read him for her, and her for him, And call the saint the seraphim.
Page 160 - Still keeping in the forward stream so long, Till a sweet whirlwind (striving to get out) Heaves her soft bosom, wanders round about, And makes a pretty earthquake in her breast, Till the fledged notes at length forsake their nest.

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