Life, letters, poems, etcCourier Company, printers, 1888 |
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Arthur's Seat beauty beneath blessed Block Island brother Buffalo Buffalo Courier Burns calm Courier dark David Gray DAVID TAYLOR death deep divine dream earth Edinburgh eyes face faith father February 16 feel fire flowers friends Glen Iris golden Gray's hand happy Havana heart heaven hope hour Jeannie JOSEPH WARREN knew lake land Letchworth letter light living look Maronites mind months Montreux morning nature never Niagara night o'er ocean once Packwaukee passed past Plymouth Brethren poems poet poetic poetry Robert Burns rose Sciennes Scotland seemed shore sing skies sleep smile song soul spirit stand star storm strange street summer sure sweet tell thee thine things thou thought truth Ventnor verse voice waiting walk Waupun week wild wind winter wonder words writing wrote young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 332 - 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.
الصفحة 307 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
الصفحة 318 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, Or forest, by slow stream or pebbly spring, Or chasms, and watery depths ; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason...
الصفحة 333 - Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun : If e'er when faith had fallen asleep, I heard a voice, ' Believe no more,' And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep ; A warmth within the breast would melt The freezing reason's colder part, And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd,
الصفحة 333 - I trust I have not wasted breath: I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death; Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay.
الصفحة 332 - And he, shall he Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Tho...
الصفحة 328 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
الصفحة 335 - The remotest discoveries of the chemist, the botanist, or mineralogist, will be as proper objects of the poet's art as any upon which it can be employed, if the time should ever come when these things shall be familiar to us, and the relations under which they are contemplated by the followers of these respective sciences shall be manifestly and palpably material to us as enjoying and suffering beings.
الصفحة 338 - Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain — She cannot fight the fear of death. What is she, cut from love and faith, But some wild Pallas from the brain Of Demons ? fiery-hot to burst All barriers in her onward race For power. Let her know her place ; She is the second, not the first.
الصفحة 317 - Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car? And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star? Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?