Memories of Merton (sonnets). Additional sonnets, notes, and illustrations

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C. D'Cruiz, 1868 - 195 oldal

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136. oldal - The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
121. oldal - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant Nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks : methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam...
101. oldal - For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are...
188. oldal - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
155. oldal - Annual for me, the grape, the rose, renew The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings ; For me, health gushes from a thousand springs ; Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise ; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
158. oldal - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
121. oldal - And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. "Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the Earth ; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
171. oldal - What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
115. oldal - All the performances of human art, at which we look with praise or wonder, are instances of the resistless force of perseverance : it is by this that the quarry becomes a pyramid, and that distant countries are united with canals.
44. oldal - But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped. For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

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