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Página 13 - A SLUMBER did my spirit seal ; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force ; She neither hears nor sees: Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Página 15 - Beyond the shadow of the ship I watched the water-snakes; • They moved in tracks of shining white; And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire — Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Página 22 - Sir ! the good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket...
Página 13 - Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon! And all the while my eyes I kept On the descending moon.
Página 22 - The Poets, in their elegies and songs Lamenting the departed, call the groves, They call upon the hills and streams to mourn, And senseless rocks ; nor idly; for they speak, In these their invocations, with a voice Obedient to the strong creative power Of human passion.
Página 20 - But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone...
Página 31 - I confess, I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a very little feast ; and, if I were ever to fall in love again (which is a great passion, and, therefore, I hope, I have done with it) it would be, I think, with prettiness, rather than with majestical beauty.
Página 17 - A gentle answer did the old Man make, In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew: And him with further words I thus bespake, 'What occupation do you there pursue ? This is a lonesome place for one like you.
Página 18 - God ! But thy most dreaded instrument In working out a pure intent. Is man — arrayed for mutual slaughter, — . Yea, Carnage is thy daughter...