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Страница 63 - So careful of the type?' but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go. Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
Страница 93 - But this it was that made me move As light as carrier-birds in air; I loved the weight I had to bear, Because it needed help of Love; Nor could I weary, heart or limb, When mighty Love would cleave in twain The lading of a single pain, And part it, giving half to him.
Страница 63 - Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
Страница 32 - Service : and that women should have leave to carry Rushes to the Church for the decoring of it, according to their old custom ; withal prohibiting all unlawful games to be used on Sundays only, as bear-baiting, bull-baiting, interludes, and, — at all times, in the meaner sort of people by law prohibited, — bowling...
Страница 83 - God gives us love. Something to love He lends us ; but, when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone.
Страница 31 - That for his good people's recreation, his majesty's pleasure was, that after the end of divine service, they should not be disturbed, letted, or discouraged, from any lawful recreations; such as dancing, either of men or women, archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or any such harmless recreations ; nor having of may-games, whitson-ales, or morrice-dances, or setting up of may-poles, or other sports therewith used...
Страница 32 - not be disturbed, letted, or discouraged from any " lawful recreations ; such as dancing, either of men " or women ; archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or " any such harmless recreations ; nor from having of...
Страница 76 - For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land; The fig tree ripeneth her green figs, And the vines are in blossom, They give forth their fragrance.
Страница 63 - And he, shall he, Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law — Tin,' Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed...
Страница 41 - Ye've been leal and true, Jean, Your task is ended now, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. A' our friends are gane, Jean, We've long been left alane, Jean, We'll a

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