The Poems of Edward Rowland Sill

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Printed at the Riverside Press, 1902 - Всего страниц: 327

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Стр. 67 - The jester doffed his cap and bells. And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head, and bent his knee Upon the monarch's silken stool ; His pleading voice arose: "O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool ! "No pity.
Стр. 40 - THIS I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: — There spread a cloud of dust along a plain ; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, " Had I a sword of keener steel — That blue blade that the king's son bears, — but this Blunt thing —!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away...
Стр. 50 - There is no world beyond this certain drop. Prove me another! Let the dreamers dream Of their faint dreams, and noises from without, And higher and lower; life is Life enough.
Стр. 68 - Our faults no tenderness should ask, The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders — oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall. "Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!
Стр. 249 - TEMPTED YES, I know what you say : Since it cannot be soul to soul, Be it flesh to flesh, as it may ; But is Earth the whole ? Shall a man betray the Past For all Earth gives ? " But the Past is dead ? " At last, It is all that lives.
Стр. 51 - t was gone; the leaf was dry. The little ghost of an inaudible squeak Was lost to the frog that goggled from his stone; Who, at the huge, slow tread of a thoughtful ox Coming to drink, stirred sideways fatly, plunged, Launched backward twice, and all the pool was stilL...
Стр. 186 - THE LOVER'S SONG LEND me thy fillet, Love! I would no longer see: Cover mine eyelids close awhile, And make me blind like thee. Then might I pass her sunny face, And know not it was fair; Then might I hear her voice, nor guess Her starry eyes were there. Ah! banished so from stars and sun — Why need it be my fate? If only she might dream me good And wise, and be my mate! Lend her thy fillet, Love! Let her no longer see : If there is hope for me at all, She must be blind like thee. Edward Rowland...
Стр. 64 - T is not in endless striving, Thy quest is found : Be still and listen ; Be still and drink the quiet Of all around. Not for thy crying, Not for thy loud beseeching, Will peace draw near : Rest with palms folded ; Rest with thine eyelids fallen • Lo ! peace is here.
Стр. 41 - And peace with perfect rest its bosom fills. There the pure mist, the pity of the sea, Comes as a white, soft hand, and reaches o'er And touches its still face most tenderly. Unstirred and calm, amid our shifting years, Lo ! where it lies, far from the clash and roar, With quiet distance blurred, as if thro
Стр. 176 - Naked from out that far abyss behind us We entered here: No word came with our coming, to remind us What wondrous world was near, No hope, no fear. Into the silent, starless Night before us, Naked we glide: No hand has mapped the constellations o'er us, No comrade at our side, No chart, no guide.

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