Poems. New and complete ed, Volumen2

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Página 64 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Página 123 - But often, in the world's most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life, A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us, — to know Whence our thoughts come and where they go.
Página 167 - He too upon a wintry clime Had fallen — on this iron time Of doubts, disputes, distractions, fears. He found us when the age had bound Our souls in its benumbing round ; He spoke, and loosed our heart in tears. He laid us as we lay at birth On the cool flowery lap of earth...
Página 63 - THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits ; — on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Página 194 - But thou would'st not alone Be saved, my father! alone Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild.
Página 46 - That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain — Say, will it never heal? And can this fragrant lawn With its cool trees, and night, And the sweet, tranquil Thames, And moonshine, and the dew, To thy rack'd heart and brain Afford no balm? Dost thou to-night behold Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild?
Página 114 - WE cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides ; The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides. But tasks in hours of insight will'd Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.
Página 149 - O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; Before this strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims, Its heads o'ertaxed, its palsied hearts, was rife — Fly hence, our contact fear!
Página 47 - Dost thou to-night behold Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild? Dost thou again peruse With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes The too clear web, and thy dumb Sister's shame? Dost thou once more assay Thy flight, and feel come over thee, Poor Fugitive, the feathery change Once more, and once more seem to make resound With love and hate, triumph and agony, Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale? Listen, Eugenia— How thick the bursts come crowding...
Página 156 - What matters it? next year he will return, And we shall have him in the sweet spring-days, With whitening hedges, and uncrumpling fern, And blue-bells trembling by the forest-ways, And scent of hay new-mown. But Thyrsis never more we swains shall see; See him come back, and cut a smoother reed, And blow a strain the world at last shall heed — For Time, not Corydon, hath conquer'd thee...

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