The Complete Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Houghton Mifflin, 1900 - Всего страниц: 548
 

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Стр. 223 - Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints.
Стр. 157 - Alas, alas, the children ! they are seeking Death in life, as best to have : They are binding up their hearts away from breaking, With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city, Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do ; Pluck your handfuls of the...
Стр. 157 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For all day we drag our burden tiring Through the coal-dark, underground; Or all day we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.
Стр. 540 - And therefore it was ever thought to have some participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind; whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of things.
Стр. 92 - A poor man, served by thee, shall make thee rich ; A sick man, helped by thee, shall make thee strong ; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest.
Стр. 438 - Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan ! Piercing sweet by the river ! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan ! The sun on the hill forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly Came back to dream on the river. Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, To laugh as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man : The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, — For the reed which grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds in the river.
Стр. 59 - He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adoration; Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath taken.
Стр. 222 - FIRST time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write ; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its " Oh, list," When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. The second passed in height The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed...
Стр. 158 - Father," looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm. We know no other words except 'Our Father,' And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather, And hold both within His right hand which is strong. 'Our Father!' If He heard us He would surely (For they call Him good and mild) Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely, 'Come and rest with me, my child.
Стр. 437 - He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep, cool bed of the river; The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, And the dragon-fly had fled away Ere he brought it out of the river.

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