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Antiphon art thou beams Blessed blest blood blush bosom breast breath bright brow chaste cheeks Chorus Compline COUNTESS OF DENBIGH Crashaw crown cruel dares dark dart dear Death doth e'er Earth eternal face Faith fears fire flame flood glories glorious golden grace hand hath head heart Heaven Hell Herod Holy hopes humble HYMN Jane Austen joys King kiss leave light lips Little Gidding live look Lord Lord TENNYSON Love Love's mighty morning murmurs ne'er nest Nicholas Ferrar Night o'er Paradise Lost Pembroke Hall Peterhouse Poems poor Prayer precious proud Responsory rich Richard Crashaw rosy seraphim shade shine sing smile soft song sorrow soul Spring stars Stephen Gwynn tears thee Thine eyes things thou art Thou hast Thou shalt Thy Cross thy fair Thy praise thyself trembling twixt unto Versicle vex'd W. M. Thackeray wake wanton weep wings woes wounds
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 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.