Authors and Friends

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Houghton, Mifflin,, 1896 - 355 頁
 

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第 347 頁 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
第 245 頁 - I GIVE you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball ; It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.
第 341 頁 - Isabel, thro' all her placid life, The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife. The mellowed reflex of a winter moon ; A clear stream flowing with a muddy one, Till in its onward current it absorbs With swifter movement and in purer light The vexed eddies of its wayward brother ; A leaning and upbearing parasite, Clothing the stem, which else had fallen quite. With...
第 214 頁 - And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my own ideal knight, " Who reverenced his conscience as his king ; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong ; Who spake no slander, no, nor listen'd to it; Who loved one only and who clave to her...
第 344 頁 - Ask me no more. Ask me no more: what answer should I give? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye : Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die ! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; Ask me no more.
第 20 頁 - The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and the world seems but a dim reflection, — itself a broader shadow. We look forward into the coining, lonely night. The soul withdraws into itself. Then stars arise, and the night is holy.
第 226 頁 - But yet in it shall be a tenth, and it shall return, and shall be eaten : as a teil tree, and as an oak, whose substance is in them, when they cast their leaves : so the holy seed shall be the substance thereof.
第 242 頁 - Deliciously, how twilight falls to-night Over the glimmering water, how the light Dies blissfully away, until I seem To feel the wind sea-scented on my cheek, To catch the sound of dusky flapping sail And dip of oars, and voices on the gale Afar off, calling low; — my name they speak!
第 61 頁 - As the moon's soft splendour O'er the faint cold starlight of heaven Is thrown, So your voice most tender To the strings without soul had then given Its own.
第 345 頁 - The imperial ensign ; which, full high advanced, Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind...

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