Poetical Works, Том 2Ticknor and Fields, 1861 |
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Стр. 6
... fear : But help thy foolish ones to bear ; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light . Forgive what seemed my sin in me ; What seemed my worth since I began ; For merit lives from man to man , And not from man , Oh Lord , to thee . Forgive ...
... fear : But help thy foolish ones to bear ; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light . Forgive what seemed my sin in me ; What seemed my worth since I began ; For merit lives from man to man , And not from man , Oh Lord , to thee . Forgive ...
Стр. 17
... fear it is not so , The wild unrest that lives in woe Would dote and pore on yonder cloud That rises upward always higher , And onward drags a laboring breast , And topples round the dreary west , A looming bastion fringed with fire ...
... fear it is not so , The wild unrest that lives in woe Would dote and pore on yonder cloud That rises upward always higher , And onward drags a laboring breast , And topples round the dreary west , A looming bastion fringed with fire ...
Стр. 28
... fears , Borne down by gladness so complete , She bows , she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears . Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers , Whose loves in higher love endure ; What souls possess ...
... fears , Borne down by gladness so complete , She bows , she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears . Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers , Whose loves in higher love endure ; What souls possess ...
Стр. 34
... fear implied in death ; Nor shudders at the gulfs beneath , The howlings from forgotten fields ; Yet oft , when sundown skirts the moor , An inner trouble I behold , A spectral doubt which makes me cold , That I shall be thy mate no ...
... fear implied in death ; Nor shudders at the gulfs beneath , The howlings from forgotten fields ; Yet oft , when sundown skirts the moor , An inner trouble I behold , A spectral doubt which makes me cold , That I shall be thy mate no ...
Стр. 38
... fears , Ay me ! the sorrow deepens down , Whose muffled motions blindly drown The bases of my life in tears . XLIX . BE near me when my light is low , When the blood creeps , and the nerves prick And tingle ; and the heart is sick , And ...
... fears , Ay me ! the sorrow deepens down , Whose muffled motions blindly drown The bases of my life in tears . XLIX . BE near me when my light is low , When the blood creeps , and the nerves prick And tingle ; and the heart is sick , And ...
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Стр. 41 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Стр. 6 - We have but faith: we cannot know, For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow. > Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Стр. 95 - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Стр. 37 - That each, who seems a separate whole, Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet. Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside; And I shall know him when we meet; And we shall sit at endless feast, Enjoying each the other's good.
Стр. 139 - 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. 52 - So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to be, How know I what had need of thee, For thou wert strong as thou wert true ? The fame is quench'd that I foresaw, The head hath miss'd an earthly wreath: I curse not nature, no, nor death; For nothing is that errs from law.
Стр. 82 - 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. 7 - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Стр. 58 - I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and face; No lower life that earth's embrace May breed with him, can fright my faith. Eternal process moving on, From state to state the spirit walks; And these are but the shatter'd stalks, Or ruin'd chrysalis of one.
Стр. 28 - Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears.