Poets in the PulpitSampson, Law, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1880 - Всего страниц: 291 |
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Стр. 15
... before - the very message which every one who has lost a dear friend longs to receive . Ah ! we often hear it from lips which pronounce it apparently without feeling it , and are not able to convey to those who want to feel Longfellow . 15.
... before - the very message which every one who has lost a dear friend longs to receive . Ah ! we often hear it from lips which pronounce it apparently without feeling it , and are not able to convey to those who want to feel Longfellow . 15.
Стр. 50
... lost : Those we love first are taken first . God gives us love . Something to love He lends us ; but , when love is grown To ripeness , that on which it throve Falls off , and love is left alone . * * * * I knew your brother ; his mute ...
... lost : Those we love first are taken first . God gives us love . Something to love He lends us ; but , when love is grown To ripeness , that on which it throve Falls off , and love is left alone . * * * * I knew your brother ; his mute ...
Стр. 72
... lost faith in everything worth living for . Then follow the ghastly pleasantry , and the free cynical rant of a worn - out sensualist , totter- ing , with gibe and semi - drunken maunder , on the brink of the grave . Having lost all ...
... lost faith in everything worth living for . Then follow the ghastly pleasantry , and the free cynical rant of a worn - out sensualist , totter- ing , with gibe and semi - drunken maunder , on the brink of the grave . Having lost all ...
Стр. 73
Hugh Reginald Haweis. ing lost all religion , he mocks at any chance phrase of theology that he can recollect ; sneers at friend- ship , love , virtue ; denounces as delusive all social and political aspirations - freedom , reform ...
Hugh Reginald Haweis. ing lost all religion , he mocks at any chance phrase of theology that he can recollect ; sneers at friend- ship , love , virtue ; denounces as delusive all social and political aspirations - freedom , reform ...
Стр. 75
... lost , wasted capacities - Divine in- stincts smothered — all that makes life worth living trampled under foot ; and as we contemplate them closely the awful Nemesis of lust , and the collapse of the whole spiritual fabric - might we ...
... lost , wasted capacities - Divine in- stincts smothered — all that makes life worth living trampled under foot ; and as we contemplate them closely the awful Nemesis of lust , and the collapse of the whole spiritual fabric - might we ...
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ALCOTT Arthur Hallam Author beautiful bright calm chapel Christ Christian Church of England cloth extra coloured Crown 8vo dark dead dear death deep demy 8vo despair Divine Edition English faith Fcap feeling French Full-page George Herbert German gilt edges glory glow grief hear heart heaven High Church History hope human hymn JULES GOUFFÉ Keble land light living Longfellow look Lord Low Church Lycidas Maps MARY COWDEN CLARKE Memoriam mind mood moral nature never night numerous Illustrations pain Palace of Art pass passion peace on earth pleasure poem poet poetic poetry political Portraits Prayer Book pulpit religion religious Ring Rose Library seems sense Simeon Stylites sing Small post 8vo song sorrow soul spirit Story sweet teaching Tennyson thee things thought tion truth unto vision voice vols Volumes whilst wild wind words Wordsworth
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Стр. 248 - Earth has not anything to show more fair ! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples, lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Стр. 21 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Стр. 18 - There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Стр. 274 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due...
Стр. 16 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Стр. 275 - There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Стр. 237 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright ; The bridal of the earth and sky : 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. 269 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Стр. 267 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Стр. 251 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.