The Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell: With IllustrationsHoughton, Mifflin, 1891 - 507 страница |
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Страница 4
... less than loveth , scorning to be bound With fear of blame , and yet which ever hasteneth To pour the balm of kind looks on the wound , If they be wounds which such sweet teach- ing makes , Giving itself a pang for others ' sakes ; No ...
... less than loveth , scorning to be bound With fear of blame , and yet which ever hasteneth To pour the balm of kind looks on the wound , If they be wounds which such sweet teach- ing makes , Giving itself a pang for others ' sakes ; No ...
Страница 6
... less beautiful the blue Unclouded heaven of her eyes . VIII . She is a woman one in whom The spring - time of her childish years Hath never lost its fresh perfume , Though knowing well that life hath room For many blights and many tears ...
... less beautiful the blue Unclouded heaven of her eyes . VIII . She is a woman one in whom The spring - time of her childish years Hath never lost its fresh perfume , Though knowing well that life hath room For many blights and many tears ...
Страница 23
... less and less , But widens to the boundless Perfectness . XVIII . THE SAME CONTINUED . THEREFORE think not the Past is wise alone , For Yesterday knows nothing of the Best , And thou shalt love it only as the nest Whence glory - winged ...
... less and less , But widens to the boundless Perfectness . XVIII . THE SAME CONTINUED . THEREFORE think not the Past is wise alone , For Yesterday knows nothing of the Best , And thou shalt love it only as the nest Whence glory - winged ...
Страница 27
... less unworthy thanks , Whether , as now , we journey hand in hand , Or , parted in the body , yet are one In spirit and the love of holy things . A LEGEND OF BRITTANY . PART FIRST . I. FAIR as a summer dream was Margaret , Such dream as ...
... less unworthy thanks , Whether , as now , we journey hand in hand , Or , parted in the body , yet are one In spirit and the love of holy things . A LEGEND OF BRITTANY . PART FIRST . I. FAIR as a summer dream was Margaret , Such dream as ...
Страница 33
... less oft , And winter frowned where spring had laughed before In his strange eyes , yet half her sadness doffed , And in her silent patience loved him more : Sorrow had made her soft heart yet more soft , And a new life within her own ...
... less oft , And winter frowned where spring had laughed before In his strange eyes , yet half her sadness doffed , And in her silent patience loved him more : Sorrow had made her soft heart yet more soft , And a new life within her own ...
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afore agin ain't aint airth arter Auf wiedersehen beauty bein Ben Jonson Biglow bobolink brain Caleb Cushing Clotho dark dear deep divine doth dream ears earth England eyes faith fancy feel feller folks fust give God's gret hand hath hear heart heaven heerd hope idee Jaalam John ketch kind larn leaves letters light lives long ez look mind Muse nature neath never nigger night nothin o'er ollers once poet poor preterite rhyme round Sawin sech seemed silent sing Sir Launfal slavery song soul spiles spirit sunshine sure sweet tell thee there's thet thet's thine things thou thought thout thru tion tree truth turn twixt verse warn't Wilbur wind word wun't Yankee
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Страница 69 - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
Страница 107 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world and she to her nest,— In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Страница 107 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Страница 111 - As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place ; The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man.
Страница 107 - The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace...
Страница 68 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side...
Страница 109 - Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old; On open wold and hilltop bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek. It carried a shiver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; All night by the white stars...
Страница 400 - Here was a type of the true elder race, And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face. I praise him not ; it were too late ; And some innative weakness there must be In him who condescends to victory Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait, Safe in himself as in a fate. So always firmly he : He knew to bide his time, And can his fame abide, Still patient in his simple faith sublime, Till the wise years decide.
Страница 111 - The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need; Not what we give, but what we share, ! For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
Страница 110 - But the wind without was eager and sharp, Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp, And rattles and wrings The icy strings, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was — "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!" The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, And he sat in the gateway and saw all night The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold, Through the window-slits of the castle old, Build...