The Spirit of Man: An Anthology in English & French from the Philosophers & Poets, Made by the Poet Laureate in 1915 & Dedicated by Gracious Permission to His Majesty the King
Longmans, Green & Company, 1916 - 336 páginas
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asked beauty birds body born breath bright bring c'est cause child cloud dark dead dear death deep delight desire divine doth dream earth eternal evil eyes face fair fear feel flowers forms give glory grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour human leaves light live look Lord means mind morn mortal move nature never night o'er once pain pass pleasure reason rest round seek seen sight silent sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring sweet tears tell thee things thou art thought true truth turn universe unto virtue voice wandering waters waves whole wild wind wisdom woods youth
Página 69 - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
Página 199 - And, father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born.
Página 187 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Página 197 - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Página 13 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung ; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Página 183 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.