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Page 230 - And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was crucified: he is risen; he is not here: behold the place where they laid him. 7 But go your way, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you into Galilee: there shall ye see him, as he said unto you.
Page 100 - To my early love, with her eyes downcast, And over her primrose face the shade, (In short, from the future back to the past) There was but a step to be made. To my early love from my future bride One moment I looked.
Page 125 - THE CHESS-BOARD. MY little love, do you remember, Ere we were grown so sadly wise, Those evenings in the bleak December, Curtained warm from the snowy weather, When you and I played chess together, Checkmated by each other's eyes ? Ah ! still I see your soft white hand Hovering warm o'er Queen and Knight ; Brave Pawns in valiant battle stand ; The double Castles guard the wings ; The Bishop, bent on distant things, Moves...
Page 100 - With her primrose face : for old things are best ; And the flower in her bosom, I prize it above The brooch in my lady's breast. The world is filled with folly and sin, And Love must cling where it can, I say : For Beauty is easy enough to win ; But one isn't loved every day.
Page 99 - Which she used to wear in her breast. It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, It made me creep, and it made me cold ! Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet Where a mummy is half unrolled.
Page 95 - Who could live with a doll, thoagh its locks should be curled, And its petticoats trimmed in the fashion ? 'T is so fair ! . . . would my bite, if I bit it, draw blood ? Will it cry if I hurt it ? or scold if I kiss ? Is it made, with its beauty, of wax or of wood ? . . . Is it worth while to guess at all this? THE NOVEL. " HERE, I have a book at last — Sure,
Page 100 - I looked. Then I stole to the door, I traversed the passage; and down at her side I was sitting, a moment more. My thinking of her or the music's strain, Or something which never will be exprest, Had brought her back from the grave again, With the jasmine in her breast. She is not dead, and she is not wed! But she loves me now...
Page 104 - Twas the hand of a man, that was moving slow O'er the heart of the dead, —from the other side : And at once the sweat broke over my brow, " Who is robbing the corpse ? " I cried. Opposite me, by the tapers...