The Home Book of Verse, American and English, 1580-1912, 8. kötet,3149-3742. oldal

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H. Holt, 1912 - 3742 oldal
 

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3265. oldal - Requiem Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
3552. oldal - Abide with me ; fast falls the even-tide ; The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
3541. oldal - Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find. Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind. Just and holy is thy name; I am all unrighteousness: 30 False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
3265. oldal - MAY I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.
3299. oldal - Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears : "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad...
3157. oldal - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts...
3193. oldal - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
3402. oldal - Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. Approach strong deliveress, When it is so, when thou hast taken them I joyously sing the dead, ; Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee, Laved in the flood of thy bliss O death.
3541. oldal - JESUS, Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
3468. oldal - He that is down needs fear no fall, He that is low, no pride; He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.

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