A MEMORIAL OF ALICE AND PHOEBE CARY

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158. oldal - 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.
49. oldal - And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
48. oldal - Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance , And every chance brought out a noble knight.
49. oldal - Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou seest — if indeed I go — (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or...
49. oldal - Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? For so the whole round world is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
49. oldal - I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure I but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
5. oldal - Under their tassels, — cattle near, Biting shorter the short green grass, And a hedge of sumach and sassafras, With bluebirds twittering all around, — (Ah, good painter, you can't paint sound !) — These, and the house where I was born, Low and little, and black and old, With children, many as it can hold, All at the windows, open wide, — Heads and shoulders clear outside, And fair young faces all ablush : Perhaps you may have seen, some day, Roses crowding the self-same way, Out of a wilding,...
158. 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...
174. oldal - One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er ; I am nearer home to-day Than I ever have been before ; Nearer my Father's house, Where the many mansions be ; Nearer the great white throne. Nearer the crystal sea ; Nearer the bound of life, Where we lay our burdens down ; Nearer leaving the cross, Nearer gaining the crown But lying darkly between, Is the silent, unknown stream, That leads at last to the light.
159. oldal - But, when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast — A wish, that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known.

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