Sesame and Lilies: And The King of the Golden River

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Macmillan, 1907 - Всего страниц: 230
 

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Стр. 86 - For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die.
Стр. 18 - Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Стр. 69 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower ; Then Nature said, " A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own.
Стр. 191 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations. All they shall speak and say unto thee, Art thou also become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?
Стр. 87 - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near;' And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;' The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;' And the lily whispers, 'I wait.
Стр. 162 - The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this Publican. 12 I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess.
Стр. 8 - ... while, meantime, there is a society continually open to us, of people who will talk to us as long as we like, whatever our rank or occupation; talk to us in the best words they can choose, and with thanks if we listen to them.
Стр. 115 - She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
Стр. 184 - And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.
Стр. 18 - That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

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