Poems, by the author of 'The patience of hope'. By D. Greenwell


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Seite 273 - And I wept much, because no man was found worthy to open and to read the book, neither to look thereon.
Seite 120 - They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace ; when there is no peace.
Seite 132 - We pluok'd them as we pass'd ! That churlish season never frown'd On early lovers yet ! Oh, no — the world was newly crown'd With flowers when first we met. 'Twas twilight, and I bade you go, But still you held me fast ; It was the time of roses, — We pluck'd them as we pass'd ! THE ROMANCE OF COLOGNE.
Seite 279 - Itself doth testify through searchings vain Of Thee and of its need, and for the good It will not, of some base similitude Takes up a taunting witness, till its mood, Grown fierce o'er failing hopes, doth rend and tear Its own illusions grown too thin and bare To wrap it longer ; for within the gate Where all must pass, a veiled and hooded Fate A dark Chimera, coiled and tangled lies, And he who answers not its questions dies, — Still changing form and speech, but with the same Vexed riddles, Gordian-twisted,...
Seite 359 - HE is good, really good, good at the bottom in all his actions, in all the foldings of his heart. I know him; and sometimes I think, if we knew others in the same manner, the better we should find them. For it may be that an action displeases us which would please us, if we knew its true aim and whole extent.
Seite 83 - It happened one day about noon, going towards my boat, I was exceedingly surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen in the sand.
Seite 53 - IN the dark and narrow street, Into a world of woe, Where the tread of many feet Went trampling to and fro, A child was born — speak low! When the night and morning meet. Full seventy summers back Was this, so long ago. The feet that wore the track Are lying straight and low, — Yet hath there been no lack Of passers to and fro.
Seite 120 - E'en in my sleep, and sweeter than the close Of music was thy voice; for 'thou wert sent To lead me homewards from my banishment By devious ways, and never hath my heart Swerved from Thee, though our hands were wrung apart By spirits sworn to sever us; above Soon shall I look upon Thee as Thou art.
Seite 210 - We do but guess At one another darkly, 'mid the stir That thickens round us; in this life of ours We are like players, knowing not the powers Nor compass of the instruments we vex, And by our rash, unskilful touch perplex To seek, and all our being heedfully To tune to one another's.
Seite 362 - I know thy feelings towards me, my brother, my beloved, if, indeed, it is permitted to one bathing in the floods of divine radiance to call to mind our misery, to be occupied with our grief. Yet God is love; and the more closely a soul is united to God the more does it abound in love...

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