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American literary society, 1901
 

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9553. oldal - Her hair that lay along her back Was yellow like ripe corn. Herseemed she scarce had been a day One of God's choristers; The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years. (To one it is ten years of years. . . . Yet now, and in this place, Surely she leaned o'er me — her hair Fell all about my face. . . . Nothing: the autumn fall of leaves. The whole year sets apace...
9546. oldal - DOES the road wind up-hill all the way ? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day ? From morn to night, my friend.
9554. oldal - Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf; and now She spoke through the still weather. Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.
9550. oldal - When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
9797. oldal - It is true that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion.
9591. oldal - Solomon! where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind. Babylon! where is thy might? It is gone in the wind. Like the swift shadows of Noon, like the dreams of the Blind, Vanish the glories and pomps of the earth in the wind.
9555. oldal - And I myself will teach to him, I myself, lying so, The songs I sing here; which his voice Shall pause in, hushed and slow, And find some knowledge at each pause, Or some new thing to know.
9553. oldal - Mid deathless love's acclaims, Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remembered names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Out of the circling charm; Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm.
9554. oldal - Are not two prayers a perfect strength? And shall I feel afraid? ' When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white, I'll take his hand and go with him To the deep wells of light; As unto a stream we will step down, And bathe there in God's sight.
9554. oldal - We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree. Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch Saith His Name audibly.

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