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Page 10 - And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.
Page 24 - ... seemed unsurpassably beautiful when beheld in upper air. But on gazing downward, there they were, the same even to the minutest particular, yet arrayed in ideal beauty, which satisfied the spirit incomparably more than the actual scene. I am half convinced that the reflection is indeed the reality, the real thing which Nature imperfectly images to our grosser sense.
Page 116 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 1 - ... song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old — This knight so bold — And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow — "Shadow," said he, "Where can it be — This land of Eldorado?" "Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride," The shade replied, — "If you seek for Eldorado!
Page 142 - Tis El Dorado — El Dorado plain, The Golden City! And when a girl goes by, Look! as she turns her glancing head, A call of gold is floated from her ear! Golden, all golden! In a golden glory, Long-lapsing down a golden coasted sky, The day, not dies but, seems Dispersed in wafts and drifts of gold, and shed Upon a past of golden song and story And memories of gold and golden dreams.
Page 143 - VESTURED and veiled with twilight, Lulled in the winter's ease, Dim, and happy, and silent, My garden dreams by its trees. Urn of the sprayless fountain, Glimmering nymph and faun, Gleam through the dark-plumed cedar, Fade on the dusky lawn. Here is no stir of summer, Here is no pulse of spring; Never a bud to burgeon, Never a bird to sing. Dreams — and the kingdom of quiet! Only the dead leaves lie Over the fallen roses Under the shrouded sky.
Page 159 - LATE lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door. When to go out, my nurse doth wrap...
Page 131 - For earth and sky and air Are golden everywhere, And golden with a gold so suave and fine The looking on it lifts the heart like wine.
Page 46 - Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells, And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear The windy clanging of the minster clock ; Although between it and the garden lies A league of grass, wash'd by a slow broad stream.
Page 124 - OR ever the knightly years were gone With the old world to the grave, I was a King in Babylon And you were a Christian Slave. I saw, I took, I cast you by, I bent and broke your pride. You loved me well, or I heard them lie, But your longing was denied. Surely I knew that by and by You cursed your gods and died.