Poems

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Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1854 - 255页
 

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第216页 - Tis that from change to change their being rolls : 'Tis that repeated shocks, again, again, Exhaust the energy of strongest souls, And numb the elastic powers. Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen, And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit, To the just-pausing Genius we remit Our worn-out life, and are — what we have been.
第226页 - OTHERS abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask — Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the...
第238页 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.
第212页 - And then they land, and thou art seen no more ! — Maidens, who from the distant hamlets come To dance around the Fyfield elm in May, Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam, Or cross a stile into the public way.
第46页 - Or rather would that I, even I myself, Might now be lying on this bloody sand, Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine, Not thou of mine; and I might die, not thou; And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan...
第210页 - But rumours hung about the country-side, That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray, Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied, In hat of antique shape, and cloak of grey, The same the gipsies wore.
第169页 - THE FORSAKEN MERMAN Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds shoreward blow, Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away! This way, this way! Call her once before you go — Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: "Margaret! Margaret!
第209页 - And air-swept lindens yield Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid, And bower me from the August sun with shade ; And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers. And near me on the grass lies Glanvil's book...
第217页 - For early didst thou leave the world, with powers Fresh, undiverted to the world without, Firm to their mark, not spent on other things ; Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt, Which much to have tried, in much been baffled, brings.
第11页 - Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south, The Tukas, and the lances of Salore, And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands; Light men, and on light steeds, who only drink The acrid milk of camels, and their wells.

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