Poems of the Orient

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Ticknor and Fields, 1856 - 203 oldal

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86. oldal - From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
175. oldal - But thou hadst gone — gone from the dreary land, Gone from the storms let loose on every hill, Lured by the sweet persuasion of a hand Which leads thee somewhere in the distance still. Where'er thou art, I know thou wearest yet The same bewildering beauty, sanctified By calmer joy, and touched with soft regret For him who seeks, but cannot reach thy side. I keep for thee the living love of old, And seek thy place in Nature, as a child Whose hand is parted from his playmate's hold, Wanders and cries...
100. oldal - Bathed in the tenderest purple of distance, Tinted and shadowed by pencils of air, Thy battlements hang o'er the slopes and the forests, Seats of the Gods in the limitless ether, Looming sublimely aloft and afar. Above them, like folds of imperial ermine, Sparkle the snow-fields that furrow thy forehead, — Desolate realms, inaccessible, silent, Chasms and caverns where Day is a stranger, Garners where...
175. oldal - ... violets closer to thy breast ; Though by the feet of generations trod, The headstone crumbles from thy place of rest. The marvel of thy beauty cannot die ; The sweetness of thy presence shall not fade ; Earth gave not all the glory of thine eye, — Death may not keep what Death has never made. It was not thine, that forehead strange and cold, Nor those dumb lips, they hid beneath the snow ; Thy heart would throb beneath that passive fold, Thy hands for me that stony clasp forego. But thou...
130. oldal - The Arab to the Palm NEXT to thee, O fair gazelle, O Beddowee girl, beloved so well ; Next to the fearless Nedjidee, Whose fleetness shall bear me again to thee ; Next to ye both, I love the palm, With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm ; Next to ye both, I love the tree Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three With love and silence and mystery ! Our tribe is many, our poets vie With any under the Arab sky ; Yet none can sing of the palm but I. The marble minarets that begem Cairo's citadel-diadem...
98. oldal - HAIL to thee, monarch of African mountains, Remote, inaccessible, silent, and lone — Who, from the heart of the tropical fervors, Liftest to heaven thine alien snows...
24. oldal - But to Truth's house there is a single door, Which is Experience. He teaches best, Who feels the hearts of all men in his breast, And knows their strength or weakness through his own.
201. oldal - ... welcome, Come back to me once more. And, all forgetful of my sorrow, Unmindful of my pain, I think she has but newly left me, And soon will come again. She stays without, perchance, a moment To dress her dark-brown hair ; I hear the rustle of her garments, Her light step on the stair...
168. oldal - What is the scenery of Earth to thine ? Here, all is fixed in everlasting shapes, But where the realms of gorgeous Cloudland shine, There stretch afar thy sun-illumined capes, Embaying reaches of the amber seas Of sunset, on whose tranquil bosom lie The happy islands of the upper sky, The halcyon shores of thine Atlantides. Anon the airy headlands change, and drift Into sublimer forms, that slowly heave Their toppling masses up the front of eve, Crag heaped on crag, with...

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