Monthly Packet

Передняя обложка
J. and C. Mozley, 1898
 

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Стр. 707 - To-day I saw the dragon-fly Come from the wells where he did lie. "An inner impulse rent the veil Of his old husk : from head to tail Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. "He dried his wings: like gauze they grew: Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew A living flash of light he flew.
Стр. 77 - Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be.
Стр. 600 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Стр. 474 - Sleep soft, beloved !" we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again. Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Стр. 78 - A.nd in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls, by thousands they pour, And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from...
Стр. 475 - But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began...
Стр. 77 - The poor folk flock'd from far and near ; The great barn was full as it could hold Of women and children, and young and old. Then when he saw it could hold no more, Bishop Hatto he made fast the door ; And while for mercy on Christ they call, He set fire to the barn and burnt them all.
Стр. 78 - He listened and looked, — it was only the cat; But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that, For she sat screaming, mad with fear, At the army of rats that were drawing near. For they have swum over the river so deep, And they have climbed the shores so steep, And now by thousands up they crawl To the holes and the windows in the wall.
Стр. 473 - DEEP on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon : My breath to heaven like vapour goes : May my soul follow soon ! The shadows of the convent-towers Slant down the snowy sward, Still creeping with the creeping hours That lead me to my Lord : Make Thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies, Or this first snowdrop of the year That in my bosom lies. As these white robes are...
Стр. 598 - The quick Dreams, The passion-winged ministers of thought, Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught The love which was its music...

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