Sir Walter Raleigh and His Time, with Other Papers

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Ticknor and Fields, 1859 - Всего страниц: 461
 

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Стр. 183 - Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new : That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do...
Стр. 46 - Yea, I hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun: because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me. And who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fool? yet shall he have rule over all my labour wherein I have laboured, and wherein I have shewed myself wise under the sun. This is also vanity.
Стр. 181 - He cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Стр. 269 - And he said unto the disciples, The days will come, when ye shall desire to see one of the days of the Son of man, and ye shall not see it.
Стр. 21 - I am rich, and increased in goods, and have need of nothing ; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked ; 18.
Стр. 183 - Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field, And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn, Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn...
Стр. 192 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
Стр. 192 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Стр. 187 - Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
Стр. 362 - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last— far off— at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream ; but what am I ? An infant crying in the night ; An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.

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