Essays and Leaves from a Note-book

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W. Blackwood and Sons, 1884 - 382 pages

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Page 134 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 198 - Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Page 133 - Nor dare she trust a larger lay, But rather loosens from the lip Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
Page 182 - Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment?
Page 20 - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
Page 134 - ... She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone 5 Half hidden from the eye!
Page 76 - I was born of woman, and drew milk As sweet as charity from human breasts. I think, articulate, I laugh and weep, And exercise all functions of a man. How then should I and any man that lives Be strangers to each other?
Page 13 - You are so witty, profligate, and thin, At once we think thee Milton, Death, and Sin.
Page 78 - Is merely as the working of a sea Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest : For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds The dust that waits upon His sultry march, When sin hath moved Him, and His wrath is hot, Shall visit earth in mercy ; shall descend Propitious in His chariot paved with love : And what His storms have blasted and defaced For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair.
Page 56 - Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free From real life ; but little more remote Is he, not yet a candidate for light, The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. Embryos we must be till we burst the shell, . Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, The life of gods, O transport ! and of man.

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