Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, Etc

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Macmillan, 1886 - 1886 - 201 pages

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Page 26 - What are men that He should heed us? cried the king of sacred song; Insects of an hour, that hourly work their brother...
Page 10 - Truth for truth, and good for good ! The Good, the True, the Pure, the Just; Take the charm ' For ever' from them, and they crumble into dust.
Page 11 - Forward, Forward,' lost within a growing gloom; Lost, or only heard in silence from the silence of a tomb. Half the marvels of my morning, triumphs over time and space, Staled by frequence, shrunk by usage into commonest commonplace ! ' Forward ' rang the voices then, and of the many mine was one. Let us hush this cry of ' Forward ' till ten thousand years have gone.
Page 22 - Earth at last a warless world, a single race, a single tongue, I have seen her far away — for is not Earth as yet so young ? — Every tiger madness muzzled, every serpent passion kill'd, Every grim ravine a garden, every blazing desert till'd, Robed in universal harvest up to either pole she smiles, Universal ocean softly washing all her warless Isles.
Page 25 - Bringer home of all good things. All good things may move in Hesper, perfect peoples, perfect kings. Hesper — Venus — were we native to that splendour or in Mars, We should see the Globe we groan in, fairest of their evening stars. Could we dream of wars and carnage, craft and madness, lust and spite, Roaring London, raving Paris, in that point of peaceful light ? Might we not in glancing heavenward on a star so silver-fair, Yearn, and clasp the hands and murmur, 'Would to God that we were there'?
Page 21 - All diseases quench'd by Science, no man halt, or deaf, or blind, Stronger ever born of weaker, lustier body, larger mind? Earth at last a warless world, a single race, a single tongue — I have seen her far away — for is not Earth as yet so young? — Every tiger madness muzzled, every serpent passion...
Page 18 - Bring the old dark ages back without the faith, without the hope, Break the State, the Church, the Throne, and roll their ruins down the slope.
Page 7 - Fires that shook me once, but now to silent ashes fallen away. Cold upon the dead volcano sleeps the gleam of dying day. Gone the tyrant of my youth, and mute below the chancel stones, All his virtues — I forgive them — black in white above his bones.
Page 24 - Dead, but how her living glory lights the hall, the dune, the grass! Yet the moonlight is the sunlight, and the sun himself will pass.

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