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Page 6 - Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End! Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And those that after some TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.
Page 23 - Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Page 3 - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh ! Wilderness were Paradise enow ! XII " How sweet is mortal Sovrainty ! " — think some ; Others " How blest the Paradise to come!
Page 17 - With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed : And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
Page 5 - And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend — ourselves to make a Couch — for whom...
Page 7 - Into this Universe, and Why not knowing Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing ; And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Page 29 - To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must Like th
Page 16 - But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.