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Página 103 - 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.
Página 117 - A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Página 42 - BEN ADHEM — may his tribe increase — Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold And to the presence in the room he said: 'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered: 'The names of those who love the Lord.
Página 157 - And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 5 By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, 'Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix...
Página 188 - THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years : Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
Página 267 - But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. " Come back, come back, Horatius !
Página 92 - Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops— at the bent spray's edge — That's the wise thrush: he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Página 158 - for Aix is in sight! "How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets