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Overige edities - Alles weergeven
beat bells blood blow break breast breath bring calm circle cloud cold dark dead dear Death deep door doubt draw dream dust dying earth eyes face fail fair faith fall fancy fear feel field flower gloom grave grief grow half hand happy hath hear heard heart hills hold hope hour human land leave light lips lives look lost meet memory mind morn move nature never night o'er once pain pass past peace pure race range regret rest Ring rise round shade Shadow shore silence sing sleep song sorrow soul sound speak spirit Spring star strange summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thought thousand thro touch true trust truth unto voice whisper wild wind wood wrought
Pagina 163 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Pagina 1 - who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
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 80 - So careful of the type?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, "A thousand types are gone; I care for nothing, all shall go. "Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death; The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
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 through the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.
Pagina 76 - Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete ; That not a worm is cloven in vain ; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain.
Pagina 191 - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen ! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Pagina 51 - Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears.