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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent
its novel force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his
With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.
But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels.
Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing pur
And the thoughts of men are widened with the process
of the suns.
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
And topples round the dreary west
In Memoriam. xv.
'Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Jewels five words long,
Fatima. St. 3.
That on the stretched forefinger of all time,
Sparkle for ever.
The Princess. Canto ii.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Ibid. Canto iv.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
Sweet is every sound,
Ibid. Canto iv.
Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;
And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Ibid. Canto vii.
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
The Princess. Canto vii.
From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.
'HE world knows nothing of its greatest men.
Philip Van Artevelde. Parti. Acti. Sc. 5.
He that lacks time to mourn lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that.
Ibid. Acti. Sc. 5.
We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand:
For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, And homebound fancy runs her bark ashore.
* Cf. Winefreda, page 240.
Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
Wakens the slumbering ages.
Philip Van Artevelde. Parti. Acti. Sc. 7.
PHILIP JAMES BAILEY.
E live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs.
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
One Summer's eve, when the breeze was gone,
Like ships, that sailed for sunny isles,
But never came to shore ! The Devil's Progress.
A Hebrew knelt, in the dying light,
His eye was dim and cold,
The hairs on his brow were silver-white,
And his blood was thin and old.
JAMES ALDRICH. 1810-1856.
HER suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,
In statue-like repose!
But when the sun, in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through Glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.