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Page 156 - In love, if love be love, if love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers : Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. ' " It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Page 152 - Divinely through all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest...
Page 121 - We get no good By being ungenerous, even to a book, And calculating profits . . so much help By so much reading. It is rather when We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound, Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth — 'Tis then we get the right good from a book.
Page 145 - HYMN OF PAN. FROM the forests and highlands We come, we come ; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme. The birds on the myrtle bushes, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus* was, Listening to my sweet pipings.
Page 167 - Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes, I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere, I, whose vast pity almost makes me die To see thee, laying there thy golden head, My pride in happier summers, at my feet. The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce law, The doom of treason and the flaming death, (When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past.
Page 167 - Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest. But how to take last leave of all I loved ? 0 golden hair, with which I used to play Not knowing!
Page 167 - Let no man dream but that I love thee still. Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul, And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, Hereafter in that world where all are pure We two may meet before high God, and thou Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. Thro...
Page 161 - Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time. Another sinning on such heights with one, The flower of all the west and all the world, Had been the sleeker for it ; but in him His mood was often like a fiend, and...