The Poetical Works of Edward Rowland Sill

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1906 - Всего страниц: 423

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Стр. 275 - 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!
Стр. 276 - Tis not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay ; 'Tis by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away. " These clumsy feet, still in the mire, Go crushing blossoms without end ; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend.
Стр. 277 - 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. 213 - To float into their hearts my last warm word, Before I go. " I would be satisfied if I might tell, Before I go, That one warm word, how I have loved them well, Could they but know!
Стр. 343 - On a trefoil two shadow - spears that cross, Three grasses that toss up their nodding heads, With spring and curve like clustered fountain-threads, — • Suddenly, through 'side windows of the eye, Deep solitudes, where never souls have met; Vast spaces, forest corridors that lie In a mysterious world, unpeopled yet. Because the outward eye elsewhere was caught, The awfulness and wonder come unsought.
Стр. 359 - 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. 292 - Thou art the love celestial, seeking still The soul beneath the form ; the serene will ; The wisdom, of whose deeps the sages dream ; The unseen beauty that doth faintly gleam In stars, and flowers, and waters where they roll ; The unheard music whose faint echoes even Make whosoever hears a homesick soul Thereafter, till he follow it to heaven.
Стр. 236 - Has Time grown sleepy at his post, And let the exiled Summer back, Or is it her regretful ghost, Or witchcraft of the almanac ? While wandering breaths of mignonette In at the open window come, I send my thoughts afar, and let Them paint your Christmas Day at home. Glitter of ice, and glint of frost, And sparkles in the crusted snow; And hark! the dancing sleigh-bells, tost The faster as they fainter grow. The creaking footsteps hurry past; The quick breath dims the frosty air; And down the crisp...
Стр. 309 - 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. 226 - 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.

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