Poems, Том 1Ticknor and Fields, 1862 |
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Страница 161
... Vict . Poor , little dove ! Thou tremblest like a leaf ! Pre . I am so frightened ! ' Tis for thee I tremble ! I hate to have thee climb that wall by night ! Did no one see thee ? Vict . None , my love , but thou . Pre . T is very ...
... Vict . Poor , little dove ! Thou tremblest like a leaf ! Pre . I am so frightened ! ' Tis for thee I tremble ! I hate to have thee climb that wall by night ! Did no one see thee ? Vict . None , my love , but thou . Pre . T is very ...
Страница 162
... Vict . Ay , and so fair That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee , And wish that they were blind . Pre . I heed them not ; When thou art present , I see none but thee ! Vict . There's nothing fair nor beautiful , but takes Something ...
... Vict . Ay , and so fair That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee , And wish that they were blind . Pre . I heed them not ; When thou art present , I see none but thee ! Vict . There's nothing fair nor beautiful , but takes Something ...
Страница 163
... Vict . The sweetest beggar that e'er asked for alms ; With such beseeching eyes , that when I saw thee I gave my heart away ! Pre . When first we met ? Vict . Dost thou remember It was at Córdova , In the cathedral garden . Thou wast ...
... Vict . The sweetest beggar that e'er asked for alms ; With such beseeching eyes , that when I saw thee I gave my heart away ! Pre . When first we met ? Vict . Dost thou remember It was at Córdova , In the cathedral garden . Thou wast ...
Страница 164
... Vict . So far as this . Our feelings and our thoughts Tend ever on , and rest not in the Present . As drops of rain fall into some dark well , And from below comes a scarce audible sound , So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter ...
... Vict . So far as this . Our feelings and our thoughts Tend ever on , and rest not in the Present . As drops of rain fall into some dark well , And from below comes a scarce audible sound , So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter ...
Страница 165
... Vict . Hear'st thou that cry ? Pre . To scare thee from me ! Vict . Doth scare the timid stag , or bark of hounds The moor - fowl from his mate . Pre . It is a hateful sound , As the hunter's horn Pray , do not go ! Fear not ! Vict . I ...
... Vict . Hear'st thou that cry ? Pre . To scare thee from me ! Vict . Doth scare the timid stag , or bark of hounds The moor - fowl from his mate . Pre . It is a hateful sound , As the hunter's horn Pray , do not go ! Fear not ! Vict . I ...
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angel art thou Balt Bart beautiful behold belfry BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath birds breast breath bride bright brooklet Bruges Carlos Chis clouds Count of Lara Cruz Cruzado dance dark dead Death Don Carlos Don Dinero Dost thou doth dreams earth eyes fair father fear fire flowers Gascon Gipsy gleam gold golden grave Guy de Dampierre hand hear heard heart heaven holy Humphrey Gilbert HYPOLITO JULIUS MOSEN land light lips look loud maiden midnight Minnesingers morning night Nils Juel o'er Padre pass poem poet Pray prayer Preciosa rain ring rise round sail Saint Sandalphon sang SCENE shadows shalt ship silent singing sleep smile soft song soul sound stands stars stood sweet tears Tharaw thee thine thou art thou hast thoughts Timoneda unto Vict Victor Galbraith Victorian village voice walls wave weary wild wind youth
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Страница 360 - But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, Standing on what too long we bore We may discern — unseen before — A path to higher destinies. With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly
Страница 11 - us Footprints on the sands of time; Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Footprints, that perhaps another, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing Learn to labor and to wait. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. THERE
Страница 10 - returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, Still, like
Страница 96 - hither I come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow." Against the stinging blast; He cut a rope from a broken spar, He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat And bound her to the mast. O
Страница 93 - Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to lee-ward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, Stands looking sea-ward. " There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her
Страница 9 - Stoop o'er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I felt her presence, by its spell of might, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes. My spirit drank repose
Страница 10 - PSALMIST. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream !" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest
Страница 97 - Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, Ho ! ho! the breakers roared! Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The
Страница 321 - vapors Amid these earthly damps. What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead,—the child of our affection,—
Страница 25 - A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle, And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud From cottage roofs the warbling blue-bird sings, And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke, Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail. 0 what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under