Black abbey, Volumen293

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Página 3 - I am with you there, In the midst of your merry ring; I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, And the rush of the breathless swing. I hide with you in the fragrant hay, And I whoop the smothered call, And my feet slip up, on the seedy floor, And I care not for the fall.
Página 228 - Where shall thy votary fly then? back to men? — But they will gladly welcome him once more, And help him to unbend his too tense thought, And rid him of the presence of himself, And keep their friendly chatter at his ear, And haunt him, till the absence from himself, That other torment, grow unbearable...
Página 287 - And as a stork which idle boys have trapp'd, And tied him in a yard, at autumn sees Flocks of his kind pass flying o'er his head To warmer lands, and coasts that keep the sun ; — He strains to join their flight, and from his shed Follows them with a long complaining cry — So Hermod gazed, and yearn'd to join his kin.
Página 86 - Jesus saith to him, He that is washed needeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit: and ye are clean, but not all.
Página 136 - Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?-— See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me?
Página 46 - Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
Página 142 - O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day! O first created beam, and thou great Word, Let there be light, and light was over all; Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree?
Página 305 - ... what shall we eat, and what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed?
Página 303 - HANG this thinking, at last! what good is it? oh, and what evil! Oh, what mischief and pain! like a clock in a sick man's chamber, Ticking and ticking, and still through each covert of slumber pursuing.
Página 101 - And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot...

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