Lyra Bicyclica: Forty Poets on the Wheel

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Published for the author, 1880 - 110 páginas
 

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Página 52 - Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! How many a tale their music tells Of youth, and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime. Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells.
Página 55 - Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, " As not to be tempted by woman or gold ? " " Sir Knight ! I feel not the least alarm, " No son of Erin will offer me harm :— " For though they love woman and golden store, " Sir Knight ! they love honour and virtue more...
Página 104 - Allons ! whoever you are come travel with me ! Travelling with me you find what never tires. The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first, Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop'd, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
Página 18 - Higher far into the pure realm, Over sun and star, Over the flickering Daemon film, Thou must mount for love ; Into vision where all form In one only form dissolves ; In a region where the wheel On which all beings ride Visibly revolves ; Where the starred, eternal worm...
Página 64 - And we run the same course that our fathers have run. The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think ; From the death we are shrinking...
Página 47 - And the angel Israfel, whose heartstrings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures. — Koran. In Heaven a spirit doth dwell "Whose heart-strings are a lute;" None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell) Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute. Tottering above In her highest noon, The...
Página 15 - Long I followed happy guides, I could never reach their sides; Their step is forth, and, ere the day Breaks up their leaguer, and away. Keen my sense, my heart was young, Right good-will my sinews strung, But no speed of mine avails To hunt upon their shining trails. On and away, their hasting feet Make the morning proud and sweet; Flowers they strew, — I catch the scent; Or tone of silver instrument Leaves on the wind melodious trace; Yet I could never see their face.
Página 26 - That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!" Then as still nearer and more near us came The Bird Divine, more radiant he appeared, So that near by the eye could not endure him, But down I cast it; and he came to shore With a small vessel, very swift and light, So that the water swallowed naught thereof.
Página 108 - I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire it.
Página 109 - O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last! To be absolv'd from previous ties and conventions, I from mine and you from yours! To find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of Nature! To have the gag remov'd from one's mouth! To have the feeling to-day or any day I am sufficient as I am.

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