Sidney Lanier: A Paper

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Folcroft Library Editions, 1887 - Poets, American - 32 pages
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Page 15 - When the Sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a guinea?" "O no, no, I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying, 'Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty".
Page 28 - Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Page 18 - IN my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain Of the live-oak, the marsh, and the main. The little green leaves would not let me alone in my sleep; Up-breathed from the marshes, a message of range and of sweep, Interwoven with waftures of wild sealiberties, drifting, Came through the lapped leaves sifting, sifting, Came to the gates of sleep.
Page 20 - Above men's oft-unheeding heads, And his big blessing downward sheds. I speak for all-shaped blooms and leaves, Lichens on stones and moss on eaves, Grasses and grains in ranks and sheaves...
Page 13 - I believe the first test of a truly great man is his humility. I do not mean, by humility, doubt of his own power, or hesitation in speaking of his opinions ; but a right understanding of the relation between what he, can do and say, and the rest of the world's sayings and doings.
Page 19 - Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire, — Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire, Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves, — Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves...
Page 8 - O Love, O Wife, thine eyes are they, — My springs from out whose shining gray Issue the sweet celestial streams That feed my life's bright Lake of Dreams...
Page 22 - So, Buddha, beautiful! I pardon thee That all the All thou hadst for needy man Was Nothing, and thy Best of being was But not to be.
Page 8 - Always, when Art on perverse wing Flies where I cannot hear him sing, I gaze in my two springs and see A charm that brings him back to me.
Page 3 - Let any sculptor hew us out the most ravishing combination of tender curves and spheric softness that ever stood for woman ; yet if the lip have a certain fullness that hints of the flesh, if the brow be insincere, if in the minutest particular the physical beauty suggest a moral ugliness, that sculptor — unless he be portraying a moral ugliness for a moral purpose — may as well give over his marble for paving-stones.

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