Tiresias, and Other Poems

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169. oldal - And here the Singer for his art Not all in vain may plead ' The song that nerves a nation's heart Is in itself a deed.
67. oldal - And more, my son ! for more than once when I Sat all alone, revolving in myself The word that is the symbol of myself, The mortal limit of the Self was loosed, And past into the Nameless, as a cloud Melts into Heaven. I touch'd my limbs, the limbs Were strange not mine — and yet no shade of doubt, But utter clearness, and thro...
65. oldal - But vain the tears for darken'd years As laughter over wine, And vain the laughter as the tears, O brother, mine or thine, For all that laugh, and all that weep And all that breathe are one Slight ripple on the boundless deep That moves, and all is gone.
57. oldal - Thou canst not prove the Nameless, O my son, Nor canst thou prove the world thou movest in, Thou canst not prove that thou art body alone, Nor canst thou prove that thou art spirit alone, Nor canst thou prove that thou art both in one : Thou canst not prove thou art immortal, no Nor yet that thou art mortal — nay my son, Thou canst not prove that I, who speak with thce, Am not thyself in converse with thyself...
171. oldal - Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd ; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word...
55. oldal - But never yet hath dipt into the abysm, The Abysm of all Abysms, beneath, within The blue of sky and sea, the green of earth, And in the million-millionth of a grain Which cleft and cleft again for evermore, And ever vanishing, never vanishes, To me, my son, more mystic than myself, Or even than the Nameless is to me. And when thou sendest thy free soul thro' heaven, Nor understandest bound nor boundlessness, Thou seest the Nameless of the hundred names.
51. oldal - Ah, yet — I have had some glimmer, at times, in my gloomiest woe, Of a God behind all — after all — the great God, for aught that I know; But the God of love and of hell together — they cannot be thought, If there be such a God, may the Great God curse him and bring him to nought!
67. oldal - T^he last long stripe of waning crimson gloom, As if the late and early were but one — A height, a broken grange, a grove, a flower Had murmurs, 'Lost and gone, and lost and gone!
185. oldal - MIDNIGHT — in no midsummer tune The breakers lash the shores : The cuckoo of a joyless June Is calling out of doors : And thou hast vanish'd from thine own To that which looks like rest, True brother, only to be known By those who love thee best. Midnight — and joyless June gone by, And from the deluged park The cuckoo of a worse July Is calling thro...
197. oldal - We sail'd wherever ship could sail, We founded many a mighty state; Pray God our greatness may not fail Thro

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