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amaranth Amid ANIMA MUNDI Atalantis Beauty beneath Bertrand du Guesclin blessing blest bliss breast breath brow calm child dare dear Death deep delight divine dream earth easy wheels eternal evil eyes face faint fair fall fancy fate fear feel flowers gaze glory golden air grace Hallel hand happy hear heart Heaven home of truth hope hopes and fears hour leave light living lonely Long-ago look looks and smiles Manorial memory mind moment's pleasure mortal Nature Nature's never night numbers o'er once pain passion past peace pleasure poor pride repose rest round scene scorn seems sense shame shapeless mountains silent sleep smile song sorrow sorrow floated soul sound spirit stream strife strong sweet tears thee thine thou art thought to-morrow toil tomb truth unseen universe virgineum voice weep words youth
Page 131 - If you have no power of giving ; — An arm of aid to the weak ; — A friendly hand to the friendless ; — Kind words so short to speak, But whose echo is endless — The world is wide ; these things are small ; They may be nothing, but they are all.
Page 233 - But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. I sat beneath the elm-tree, I watched the long, long shade, And as it grew still longer, I did not feel afraid; For I listened for a footfall, I listened for a word; But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.
Page 136 - Not conscious what mere drops they cast Into the evil sea. A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet: For flowers that grow our hands beneath We struggle and aspire,— Our hearts must die, except they breathe The air of fresh Desire. Yet, Brothers, who up Reason's hill Advance with hopeful cheer,— O ! loiter not, those heights are chill, As chill as they are clear; And still restrain your haughty gaze, The loftier that...
Page 226 - ... Lady Moon, whom are you loving ? " All that love me." Are you not tired with rolling, and never Resting to sleep ? Why look so pale and so sad, as forever Wishing to weep ? " Ask me not this, little child, if you love me : You are too bold : I must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I'm told." Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving ? "Over the sea." Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving ?
Page 115 - So should we live, that every hour May die as dies the natural flower — A self-reviving thing of power ; That every thought and every deed May hold within itself the seed Of future good and future meed ; Esteeming sorrow, whose employ Is to develop, not destroy, Far better than a barren joy.
Page 17 - Let us go forth, and resolutely dare, With sweat of brow, to toil our little day, — And if a tear fall on the task of care, In memory of those spring-hours past away, Brush it not by ! Our hearts to God ! to brother-men Aid, labor, blessing, prayer, and then To these a sigh ! THE LAY OF THE HUMBLE.
Page 8 - ... found him gone, We were miserable men, We were hopeless, every one ! Yes, he must have gone away In his guise of every day, In his common dress, the same Perfect face and perfect frame ; For in feature, for in limb, Who could be compared to him ? Firm his step, as one who knows He is free where'er...
Page 94 - Beneath an Indian palm a girl Of other blood reposes, Her cheek is clear and pale as pearl, Amid that wild of roses. Beside a northern pine a boy Is leaning fancy-bound, Nor listens where with noisy joy Awaits the impatient hound. Cool grows the sick and feverish calm, — Relaxed the frosty twine, — The pine-tree dreameth of the palm, The palm-tree of the pine. As soon shall nature interlace Those dimly-visioned boughs, As these young lovers face to face Renew their early vows ! IV.
Page 34 - Alone avoids the open tomb. It is not Absence you should dread. — For Absence is the very air In which, if sound at root, the head Shall wave most wonderful and fair : With sympathies of joy and sorrow Fed, as with morn and even dews, Ideal colouring it may borrow Richer than ever earthly hues. But oft the plant, whose leaves unsere Refresh the desert, hardly brooks The common-peopled atmosphere Of daily thoughts and words and looks ; It trembles at the brushing wings Of many' a careless fashion-fly,...