Mysticism in Blake and Wordsworth

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H.J. Paris, 1928 - 174 páginas

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Página 136 - Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be ? " "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where are they ? I pray you tell...
Página 51 - Neither pray I for these alone but for them also which shall believe on me through their word, that they all may be one,— as thou Father art in me and I in thee that they also may be one in us : that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them, that they may be one even as we are one.
Página 168 - Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire. I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land.
Página 136 - My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit and sing to them. And often after sunset, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away.
Página 132 - Heaven lies about us in our infancy. Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy; But he beholds the light and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy. The youth who daily farther from the East Must travel, still is Nature's priest, And, by the vision splendid, Is on his way attended. At length the man perceives it die away And fade into the light of common day.
Página 17 - Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice?
Página 159 - Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Página 30 - The Fly Little fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death, Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die.
Página 80 - What", it will be questioned, "when the sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a guinea?" O no, no, I see an innumerable company of the heavenly host, crying "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty".
Página 116 - Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream, The unfettered clouds and region of the Heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light— Were all like workings of one mind, the features Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree ; Characters of the great Apocalypse, The types and symbols of Eternity, Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.

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