The Sonnet in England, & Other Essays

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E. Mathews and J. Lane, 1893 - 211 oldal
 

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26. oldal - SINCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part. Nay, I have done, you get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his...
27. oldal - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
11. oldal - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen!
59. oldal - ... the light the spirits of mine eyes Before thy face, their altar, solemnize The worship of that Love through thee made known? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own? O love, my love! if I no more should see Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee, Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, — How then should sound upon Life's darkening slope The ground-whirl of the...
154. oldal - All heaven and earth are still— though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
22. oldal - Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day didst make thy triumph over death and sin; and having harrowed hell, didst bring away captivity thence captive, us to win...
142. oldal - Then, in the scale of reasoning life, 'tis plain, There must be, somewhere, such a rank as Man: And all the question (wrangle e'er so long) Is only this, if God has placed him wrong?
11. oldal - Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
27. oldal - Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble, Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink, Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink, Here now in his triumph where all things falter, Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread, As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
148. oldal - Stagirite o'erlooked each line. Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem; To copy nature is to copy them.

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