The poetical works of George Herbert. IllustratedJames Nisbet and Company, 1856 - Всего страниц: 20 |
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AFFLICTION art thou beleeve blessed bloud brave breast breath Christ Church crie dayes deare death delight dimme doore doth drest drie dust earth Egypt ev'n ev'ry eyes farre fear flesh flie flower foes foul giv'n give glorie grace grave Greece grief grone grow Hast thou hath heare heart heav'n hell hither holy honour Jews joyes King leave let thy light live look Lord lost lust lute mend minde mirth musick night once peace pleasure poore posie praise thee rest Rome runne Saviour shew shine show thy sigh sing sinne skie sonne sorrow soul starres stay stone sunne sure sweet sweetly sweetnesse tears thine things thou art thou canst thou didst thou dost thou hast thou mayst thou shalt thou wilt thoughts thy hand thy love thy praise thyself unto verse vertue wayes weep Wherefore winde words wouldst
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Стр. 111 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Стр. 195 - Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands, Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.
Стр. 55 - When I got health, Thou took'st away my life, And more, — for my friends die: My mirth and edge was lost, a blunted knife Was of more use...
Стр. 229 - DISCIPLINE. THROW away thy rod. Throw away thy wrath 0 my God, Take the gentle path. For my heart's desire Unto thine is bent : I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
Стр. 49 - With Thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories : Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
Стр. 236 - Will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine : Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, Makes that and th
Стр. 211 - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing.
Стр. 159 - PEACE. SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd, if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, No : Go seek elsewhere.
Стр. 249 - Upon Thine altar burnt? Cannot Thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out Thy praise As well as any she? Cannot Thy Dove Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight?
Стр. 213 - And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing: O my only light, It cannot be That I am he, On whom thy tempests fell all night.