Southern Writers: Biographical and Critical Studies ...

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Barbee & Smith, 1896 - American literature - 404 pages
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Page 278 - Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall. All down the hills of Habersham, All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried Abide, abide...
Page 296 - Will break as a bubble o'er-blown in a dream, — Yon dome of too-tenuous tissues of space and of night, Over-weighted with stars, over-freighted with light, Over-sated with beauty and silence, will seem But a bubble that broke in a dream, If a bound of degree to this grace be laid, Or a sound or a motion made.
Page 294 - Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low, And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know, And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within, That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn...
Page 295 - The skies Shine scant with one forked galaxy, — The marsh brags ten : looped on his breast they lie. Oh, what if a sound should be made ! Oh, what if a bound should be laid To this bow-and-string tension of beauty and silence a-spring. — To the bend of beauty the bow, or the hold of silence the string ! I fear me, I fear me yon dome of diaphanous gleam Will break as a bubble o'er-blown in a dream...
Page 294 - As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod, Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God ; I will fly in the greatness of God as the marshhen flies In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies: By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God...
Page 288 - We sieve mine-meshes under the hills, And thieve much gold from the Devil's bank tills, To relieve, O God, what manner of ills? — The beasts, they hunger, and eat, and die; And so do we, and the world's a sty; Hush, fellow-swine: why nuzzle and cry? Swinehood hath no remedy Say many men, and hasten by, Clamping the nose and blinking the eye.
Page 279 - INTO the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came.
Page 294 - Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and free Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea! Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun, Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain.
Page 278 - The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide. Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
Page 264 - If that our eyes might sometimes see Men maids in purity, Fair Lady? Shall Trade aye salve his conscience-aches With jibes at Chivalry's old mistakes— The wars that o'erhot knighthood makes For Christ's and ladies

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