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angel awhile bear beautiful beside bosom breast bright broken brow cast changed child cold comes dark dead death deep didst died door doth dream evil eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet float flowers gaze grief grows hand hard hast head hear heart human knew land leave light live look lover meet midnight morn move never night o'er O’er ocean once pain passed passion past prayer pressed pride rest rise roll round scene seemed shining shore sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul spirit stood stream strife strong sweet tears tell thee thine thou Thou art thought tomb trouble true unto vast verse vision voice wander watch waters waves weep wept wild wound youth
31. oldal - We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears , Our fears our hopes belied — We thought her dying when she slept And sleeping when she died.
36. oldal - Sound, colour — in whatever checks that Storm Which with the shattered present chokes the past; And in that best philosophy, whose taste Makes this cold common hell, our life, a doom As glorious as a fiery martyrdom; Her spirit was the harmony of truth.
18. oldal - Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead! Away! we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
10. oldal - Beautiful bird, thou voyagest to thine home, Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine, and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy.
49. oldal - To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty space from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusky death. Out, out, brief candle ! Life's but a walking shadow, — a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more ! It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
10. oldal - He paused, a wide and melancholy waste Of putrid marshes. A strong impulse urged His steps to the sea-shore. A swan was there, Beside a sluggish stream among the reeds. It rose as he approached, and with strong wings Scaling the upward sky, bent its bright course High over the immeasurable main.
10. oldal - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow (This, all this, was in the olden Time long ago]; And every gentle air that dallied In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
30. oldal - I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
23. oldal - With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults perchance thou knowest, All my madness none can know ; All my hopes, where'er thou goest, Wither, yet with thee they go. Every feeling hath been shaken ; Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee— by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now : But 'tis done — all words are idle — Words from me are vainer still ; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will. Fare thee well ! thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie,...