The Mount Holyoke, Opseg 12

Naslovnica
1903

Iz unutrašnjosti knjige

Ostala izdanja - Prikaži sve

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Popularni odlomci

Stranica 302 - Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife...
Stranica 473 - ye stars, ye waters, On my heart your mighty charm renew; Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, Feel my soul becoming vast like you!
Stranica 67 - Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts, the book of their deeds, the book of their words, and the book of their art. Not one of these books can be understood unless we read the two others, but of the three the only quite trustworthy one is the last.
Stranica 301 - Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me! I fondly dream "Had ye been there" . . . For what could that have done?
Stranica 182 - I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep ; Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap : I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
Stranica 182 - Though one were strong as seven, He too with death shall dwell, Nor wake with wings in heaven, Nor weep for pains in hell ; Though one were fair as roses, His beauty clouds and closes; And well though love reposes In the end it is not well.
Stranica 181 - ITYLUS Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring ? A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing ? What wilt thou do when the summer is shed...
Stranica 3 - Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,— the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods— rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Stranica 3 - Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere; Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Stranica 469 - But thou would'st not alone Be saved, my father ! alone Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild.

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