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Pagina 2 - Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain ? Greatness and goodness are not means but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures,- love and light, And calm thoughts regular as infant's breath : And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
Pagina 92 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Pagina 149 - And never can be sunder'd without tears. And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie Howling in outer darkness. Not for this Was common clay ta'en from the common earth, Moulded by God, and temper'd with the tears Of angels to the perfect shape of man.
Pagina 99 - Whose friendly streams to us Supplies in want convey ; A healing spring, a spring to cleanse And wash our guilt away.
Pagina 27 - O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, By taking true for false, or false for true ; Here, thro...
Pagina 44 - Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.
Pagina 217 - And never yet, since high in Paradise O'er the four rivers the first roses blew, Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind Than lived thro' her, who in that perilous hour Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart, And felt him hers again : she did not weep, But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist Like that which kept the heart of Eden green Before the useful trouble of the rain...
Pagina 203 - With the Right shall many more Enter smiling at the door ; With the giant Wrong shall fall Many others great and small, That for ages long have held us For their prey. Men of thought and men of action, Clear the way...
Pagina 103 - I have heard many speak, but this one man — So anxious not to go to heaven alone — This one man I remember, and his look, Till twilight overshadowed him. He ceased, And out in darkness with the fisher folk We passed and stumbled over mounds of moss, And heard, but did not see, the passing beck.