Poems, by Edward Rowland Sill.Scholarly Publishing Office, University of Michigan Library, 1893 - Всего страниц: 128 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Стр. 63
... say Who knows how grandly it had rung ? " 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 . 64 The Fool's Prayer " Earth bears no ...
... say Who knows how grandly it had rung ? " 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 . 64 The Fool's Prayer " Earth bears no ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Æons Ancient Error Aphrodite azure beautiful bird Blindfold blue Book of Hours bosom breast calm CARPE DIEM child Christmas in California cloud Dare dark darkling dawn deep Desire of Sleep divine dome dream dull earth EDWARD ROWLAND SILL Eve's Daughter eyes face fair Faith fear feet Field Notes Five Lives flashes flower Fool's Prayer frog gleam glimmering gloom grass grow hand hath heart heaven hollow Hush laughing light Links of Chance lips Medicean's Metui Moritura mind monad morning never night o'er peace pity poems Praxiteles Redwoods round shadow shine silence Sill sing smile song soul sound stars strange sway sweet thee thine things thou art thro Thrush tongues tranquil tree Truth at Last turn unto Venus of Milo voice wait weep whispering Wiegenlied wild things wind wing Wonderful Thought wondrous Words
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 63 - 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. "The ill-timed truth we might have kept — Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say — Who knows how grandly it had rung? "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;...
Стр. 27 - FORENOON and afternoon and night, — Forenoon, And afternoon, and night,— Forenoon, and — what! The empty song repeats itself. No more ? Yea, that is Life : make this forenoon sublime, This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won.
Стр. 63 - 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. 111 - HAT if some morning, when the stars were paling, And the dawn whitened, and the East was clear, Strange peace and rest fell on me from the presence Of a benignant Spirit standing near : And I should tell him, as he stood beside me, " This is our Earth — most friendly Earth, and fair; Daily its sea and shore through sun and shadow Faithful it turns, robed in its azure air...
Стр. 33 - 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.
Стр. 63 - T is not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 'T is by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away.
Стр. 16 - World, wise old world, What may man do for thee ? Thou that art greater than all of us, What wilt thou do to me ? This glossy curve of the tall grass-spear — Can I make its lustrous green more clear ? This tapering shaft of oat, that knows To grow erect as the great pine grows, And to sway in the wind as well as he — Can I teach it to nod more graciously ? The lark on the mossy rail so nigh...
Стр. 20 - Life is a game the soul can play With fewer pieces than men say. Only to grow as the grass grows, Prating not of joys or woes ; To burn as the steady hearth-fire burns -, To shine as the star can shine, Or only as the mote of dust that turns Darkling and twinkling in the beam of light divine...
Стр. 70 - I am a lost illusion. Some strange spell Once made your friend there, with his fine disdain Of fact, conceive me perfect. He would fain (But could not) see me always, as befell His dream to see me, plucking asphodel, In saffron robes, on some celestial plain. All that I was he marred and flung away In quest of what I was not, could not be, — Lilith, or Helen, or Antigone.
Стр. 61 - 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.