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Seite 22 - O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion : What airs in dress an
Seite 419 - Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual life, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore — Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double.
Seite 353 - THE poetry of earth is never dead : When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead ; That is the Grasshopper's — he takes the lead In summer luxury, — he has never done With his delights ; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Seite 302 - And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly tree.
Seite 40 - We may live without poetry, music, and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart ; We may live without friends ; we may live without books ; But civilized man cannot live without cooks.
Seite 147 - Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.
Seite 401 - ... for which there are no words in language, and no ideas in the mind, — things which can only be conceived while they are visible, — the intense hollow blue of the upper sky melting through it all, — showing here deep, and pure, and lightless, there, modulated by the filmy, formless body of the transparent vapor, till it is lost imperceptibly in its crimson and gold.
Seite 102 - ... there is no substance here, One great reality above: Back from that void I shrink in fear, And child-like hide myself in love: Show me what angels feel. Till then, I cling, a mere weak man, to men. You bid me lift my mean desires From faltering lips and fitful veins To sexless souls, ideal quires, Unwearied voices, wordless strains: My mind with fonder welcome owns One dear dead friend's remembered tones.