Poems (1899-1902)

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Cameron, Blake, 1902 - American poetry - 150 pages
 

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Page 68 - you gone? The large winds, seaward bound, Tell of long journeying in the endless void. Why are you gone? I strain to catch the sound Of footsteps, watch to see the dark destroyed Before your lustrous fingers that would creep Over my eyes and give me strength to sleep
Page 5 - Ere the aisles of the forest are heavy with dusk and are sweet with the murmur and marvel of birds, Ere the dreams of the slumber of earth are destroyed and she utters her hymn of ineffable words: Thro' the drift of the derelict airs, thro' the wind-trodden seas that are windless and weary with foam,
Page 47 - VIII., THE POET. He comes last of the long processional, Last of the perfect lovers, doomed as they To live ever more lonely day by day By all rejected and condemned by all. Hands stretch to hold him, passionate voices call, Bright lips beseech
Page 103 - And light! For in the midnight of despair I seem to glimpse the dawn of a huge hope That fires a pathway to my utmost goal! Not thine the power! I go from thee to me! Mine is the task—to teach my human soul The vastness of the immortal mood and thus Lift my fierce life to immortality!
Page 133 - God appears I wondered, will He understand? THE FINAL WORD. Hear me! I say to you—"This love of ours Can never be forgiven; nevermore Shall I, in peace and silence, pass my door, Sad with October sun and scattered flowers, Unhaunted of thy memory as before.
Page 21 - The wide waters before us shall whiten, the horizon that bound us be rent, And no longer our hearts as they lighten shall grieve or complain or repent! We have seen that the progress they praise is of tears and enslavement and blood, Tho
Page 14 - the blowing of pipes and the running of rills Persist in our ears.—In the warmth of the sun and the wash of the wind, In the ceasing of struggle and peace of the mind, With the wandering passed, We are home at last!
Page 14 - the warmth of the sun and the wash of the wind, In the ceasing of struggle and peace of the mind, With the wandering passed, We are home at last! THE WORLD'S TOO LONG ABOUT US. The world's too long about
Page 28 - With the sword of our will we may rend as a curtain the dusk of desires that wince and withhold, Whatsoever we ask for the guerdon is certain, be it dust or the dawn-star, God's heaven or gold!

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