Shelburne Essays: Second seriesG.P.Putnam's sons, 1905 - 253 páginas |
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Página 114 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time : And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Página 25 - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Página 12 - Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust ; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things ; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Página 39 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Página 124 - Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn : And Lip to Lip it murmur'd — " While you live, " Drink ! — for, once dead, you never shall return.
Página 124 - Perplext no more with Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign, And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.
Página 33 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Página 130 - Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry Of fishing gull or clanging golden-eye; What time the sea-birds to the marsh would come, And the loud bittern, from the bull-rush home, Gave from the salt-ditch side the bellowing boom...
Página 21 - The sense that every struggle brings defeat Because Fate holds no prize to crown success; That all the oracles are dumb or cheat Because they have no secret to express; That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain Because there is no light beyond the curtain; That all is vanity and nothingness.
Página 100 - Don't you think Newton a great genius?' I could not stand it any longer. Keats put his head into my books. Ritchie squeezed in a laugh. Wordsworth seemed asking himself, 'Who is this?' Lamb got up, and taking a candle, said, 'Sir, will you allow me to look at your phrenological development?