Literary Studies of Poems, New and Old

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G. Bell and son, 1902 - English poetry - 170 pages

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Page 143 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain,—- Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty Voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! Silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven, Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?— God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Page 119 - Truth is within ourselves ; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fulness ; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception — which is truth.
Page 102 - All we have willed, or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist; Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
Page 45 - Commander ; he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower ; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured...
Page 91 - Tis the weakness in strength, that I cry for! my flesh, that I seek In the Godhead!
Page 57 - Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty. Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.
Page 67 - I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Page 105 - And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence For the fulness of the days? Have we withered or agonized? Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence? Why rushed the discords in but that harmony should be prized?
Page 100 - And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion he was, Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many a crest, Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass, Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest...
Page 101 - Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale nor pine, For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.

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