In MemoriamD.Appleton & Company, 1889 - 281 oldal |
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ALFRED TENNYSON APPLETON & COMPANY beat Behold bells bliss blood bloom blow BOND STREET break breast breath bring brows calm cloud cold crown'd Danube dark darken'd dead dear Death deep dipt divine doubt dream dust dying earth ev'n evermore eyes fair faith faithless fall fall'n fancy fear feel flower gloom golden hour grave grief half hand happy happy days harp hath hear heart heaven hills hope Hope and Fear hour human land leaf leave light lips lives look look'd love thee lying lip mind moon morn move Muse night o'er once pain peace race regret rills Ring rise round seem'd Seraphic shade Shadow shore sing sleep song sorrow soul star sweet tears thine things thou art thought thro touch'd trust truth unto voice walk'd weep whisper wild wild bells wilt wind wings words wrought yonder
Népszerű szakaszok
114. oldal - The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul ? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams ? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
280. oldal - Whereof the man, that with me trod This planet, was a noble type Appearing ere the times were ripe, That friend of mine who lives in God, That God, which ever lives and loves, One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves.
204. oldal - He fought his doubts and gathered strength, He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the spectres of the mind And laid them : thus he came at length To find a stronger faith his own ; And Power was with him in the night, Which makes the darkness and the light, And dwells not in the light alone...
5. oldal - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
6. oldal - We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow. Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
6. oldal - Our little systems have their day ; They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
178. oldal - Sweet after showers, ambrosial air, That rollest from the gorgeous gloom Of evening over brake and bloom And meadow, slowly breathing bare The round of space, and rapt below Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood, And shadowing down the horned flood In ripples, fan my brows and blow The fever from my cheek, and sigh The full new life that feeds thy breath Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death, 111 brethren, let the fancy fly From belt to belt of crimson seas On leagues of odour streaming far, To where...
246. oldal - And drown'd in yonder living blue The lark becomes a sightless song. Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, The flocks are whiter down the vale, And milkier every milky sail On winding stream or distant sea; Where now the seamew pipes, or dives In yonder greening gleam, and fly The happy birds, that change their sky To build and brood; that live their lives From land to land; and in my breast Spring wakens too; and my regret Becomes an April violet, And buds and blossoms like the rest.
271. oldal - Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure, That we may lift from out of dust A voice as unto him that hears, A cry above the conquer' d years To one that with us works, and trust, With faith that comes of self-control, The truths that never can be proved Until we close with all we loved, And all we flow from, soul in soul.
25. oldal - Thro' prosperous floods his holy urn. All night no ruder air perplex Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright As our pure love, thro' early light Shall glimmer on the dewy decks. Sphere all your lights around, above; Sleep, . gentle heavens, before the prow ; Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now, My friend, the brother of my love; My Arthur, whom I shall not see Till all my widow'd race be run; Dear as the mother to the son, More than my brothers are to me.