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aire appear beauty believe birth bloud breath bright bring cares close clouds common dark dead death deep doth dust Earth ev'ry eyes face fair fall fate fear feeling fire Fortune fresh give glory gone hand happy hast hath head heart heaven HENRY VAUGHAN Herbert hope houres Italy keep kind king known leave light lines live look lost mind Nature never night Notes once pass poem Poet Poetry poor present Reader rest rich seen shades shew shine sight Silurist sorrow soul spirit spring stand stars streams sweet tears tell thee things Thomas thou thought translation true turn unto Vaughan verse volume whole wife wind wings wise Wordsworth write
Стр. lviii - But there's a tree, of many one, A single field which I have looked upon. Both of them speak of something that is gone : The pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? Where is it now, the glory and the dream...
Стр. lvii - A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong. The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep ; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the echoes through the mountains throng; The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay ; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity...
Стр. lx - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy soul's immensity; Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind, — • Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave...
Стр. lvi - The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose ; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare : Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth, — But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Стр. lx - Thou little child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
Стр. lxi - Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Стр. lix - And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part, Filling from time to time his
Стр. lviii - Heaven lies about us in our infancy. Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy; But he beholds the light and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy. The youth who daily farther from the East Must travel, still is Nature's priest, And, by the vision splendid, Is on his way attended. At length the man perceives it die away And fade into the light of common day.
Стр. xviii - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Стр. lxii - Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.