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answer'd beneath blow breast breath brow Camelot cheek cloud dark dead Dear mother Ida death deep dipt door Dora dream earth Edwin Morris evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fall floating flowers folds golden prime grave green hand happy harken ere Haroun Alraschid hath hear heard heart Heaven hills hour King King Arthur kiss kiss'd Lady Clare Lady of Shalott land last embrace Let them rave light lips live Locksley Hall look look'd Lord measured words mind moon morn never night o'er Oriana Queen roll'd rose round saw thro scorn seem'd shadow SIMEON STYLITES sing Sir Bedivere sleep slowly smile song soul sound spake speak spirit stars stept summer sweet Sweet Emma tears thee thine things thou art thought thro thy dreams turn'd unto Vere voice weary weep wild wind words yonder
Página 199 - And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
Página 271 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Página 283 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Página 279 - With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm ; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battleflags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.
Página 268 - Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro...
Página 335 - Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board, no helmsman steers, I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars.
Página 142 - In the afternoon they came unto a land, In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams ! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go ; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
Página 70 - In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot.