The World's Best Poetry ...

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J. D. Morris, 1904
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Страница 201 - Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green : So, to the Jews, old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.
Страница xxxv - Lo, the poor Indian! Whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears Him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Страница xxxv - That, changed through all, and yet in all the same, Great in the earth as in the ethereal frame, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows...
Страница xxiv - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Страница 125 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Страница 189 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream. The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Страница 166 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Страница 203 - A better country, that is, an heavenly." TITOR thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.
Страница 109 - Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
Страница 193 - Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play. Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May!

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