In MemoriamEdward Moxon, 1850 - 126 pagina's |
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Pagina 7
... d the life that beat from thee . O mother , praying God will save Thy sailor , -while thy head is bow'd , His heavy - shotted hammock - shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave . Ye know no more than I who wrought At that 6.
... d the life that beat from thee . O mother , praying God will save Thy sailor , -while thy head is bow'd , His heavy - shotted hammock - shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave . Ye know no more than I who wrought At that 6.
Pagina 7
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. Ye know no more than I who wrought At that last hour to please him well ; Who mused on all I had to tell , And something written , something thought ; Expecting still his advent home ; And ever met him on ...
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. Ye know no more than I who wrought At that last hour to please him well ; Who mused on all I had to tell , And something written , something thought ; Expecting still his advent home ; And ever met him on ...
Pagina 56
... wrought With human hands the creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds , More strong than all poetic thought ; Which he may read that binds the sheaf , Or builds the house , or digs the grave , And those wild eyes that watch the ...
... wrought With human hands the creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds , More strong than all poetic thought ; Which he may read that binds the sheaf , Or builds the house , or digs the grave , And those wild eyes that watch the ...
Pagina 90
... wrought There flutters up a happy thought , Self - balanced on a lightsome wing : Since we deserved the name of friends , And thine effect so lives in me , A part of mine may live in thee , And move thee on to noble ends . LXIV . You ...
... wrought There flutters up a happy thought , Self - balanced on a lightsome wing : Since we deserved the name of friends , And thine effect so lives in me , A part of mine may live in thee , And move thee on to noble ends . LXIV . You ...
Pagina 96
... wrought , A gulf that ever shuts and gapes , A hand that points , and palled shapes In shadowy thoroughfares of thought ; And crowds that stream from yawning doors , And shoals of pucker'd faces drive ; Dark bulks that tumble half alive ...
... wrought , A gulf that ever shuts and gapes , A hand that points , and palled shapes In shadowy thoroughfares of thought ; And crowds that stream from yawning doors , And shoals of pucker'd faces drive ; Dark bulks that tumble half alive ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
beat Behold bells bliss blood bloom bound in morocco break breast breath brows calm cloth cloud crown'd Danube dark darken'd dead dear Death deep dipt divine doubt DOVER STREET dream dust earth EDITION EDWARD MOXON elegantly bound evermore eyes fair faith fall'n fancy fear flower gilt edges gloom grave grief half hand happy happy days harp hath hear heart heaven hill hope Hope and Fear hour human land leave LEIGH HUNT light lips lives look look'd love thee marge mind moon move Muse night o'er peace POEMS POETICAL Portrait and Vignette price 16s regret rills Ring rise ROGERS'S round seem'd shade Shadow shore sing sleep song sorrow soul star sweet tears thine things thou art thought thro touch'd trust truth unto voice volume 8vo weep whisper WHITEFRIARS wild wild bells wind wings Woodcuts words wrought yonder
Populaire passages
Pagina 78 - The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
Pagina 7 - who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Pagina 210 - Whereof the man, that with me trod This planet, was a noble type Appearing ere the times were ripe, That friend of mine who lives in God, That God, which ever lives and loves, One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves.
Pagina 67 - The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that "this is I;" But as he grows he gathers much, And learns the use of "I" and "me," And finds "I am not what I see, And other than the things I touch.
Pagina 32 - The Danube to the Severn gave The darken'd heart that beat no more; They laid him by the pleasant shore, And in the hearing of the wave. There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.
Pagina 49 - their sleep is sweet,' And silence follow'd, and we wept. Our voices took a higher range; Once more we sang: 'They do not die Nor lose their mortal sympathy, Nor change to us, although they change; 'Rapt from the fickle and the frail With gather'd power, yet the same, Pierces the keen seraphic flame From orb to orb, from veil to veil.
Pagina 159 - THE time draws near the birth of Christ : The moon is hid ; the night is still ; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound : Each voice four changes on the wind, That now dilate, and now decrease, Peace...
Pagina 76 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Pagina 178 - Now rings the woodland loud and long, The distance takes a lovelier hue, And drown'd in yonder living blue The lark becomes a sightless song. Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, The flocks are whiter down the vale, And milkier every milky sail On winding stream or distant sea...
Pagina 9 - A hand that can be clasp'd no more — Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door. He is not here ; but far away The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.