The Drift

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D. Appleton, 1911 - 255 страници

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Страница 201 - From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Страница 161 - Did she drop, his lady of the sonnets, Die, and let it drop beside her pillow Where it lay in place of Rafael's glory, Rafael's cheek so duteous and so loving, Cheek, the world was wont to hail a painter's, Rafael's cheek, her love had turned a poet's?
Страница 162 - ... turn I stand with them and praise you— Out of my own self, I dare to phrase it. But the best is when I glide from out them, Cross a step or two of dubious twilight, Come out on the other side, the novel Silent silver lights and darks undreamed of, Where I hush and bless myself with silence.
Страница 162 - God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her!
Страница 160 - Be a god and hold me With a charm! Be a man and fold me With thine arm! Teach me, only teach, Love! As I ought I will speak thy speech, Love, Think thy thought — Meet, if thou require it, Both demands, Laying flesh and spirit In thy hands. That shall be tomorrow, Not tonight; I must bury sorrow Out of sight — Must a little weep, Love (Foolish me!), And so fall asleep, Love, Loved by thee.
Страница 162 - Heart to heart, And lips to lips! Yet once more, ere we part, Clasp me, and make me thine, as mine thou art!
Страница 158 - And Peter twirled the jangling keys in weariness and wrath. 'Ye have read, ye have heard, ye have thought,' he said, 'and the tale is yet to run: 'By the worth of the body that once ye had, give answer — what ha
Страница 161 - Rafael made a century of sonnets, Made and wrote them in a certain volume Dinted with the silver-pointed pencil Else he only used to draw Madonnas : These, the world might view — but One, the volume. Who that one, you ask? Your heart instructs you.
Страница 160 - THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. IN her ear he whispers gaily, "If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well." She replies, in accents fainter, "There is none I love like thee.
Страница 163 - I shall never, in the years remaining, Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues, Make you music that should all-express me; So it seems: I stand on my attainment. This of verse alone, one life allows me...

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