 | Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1847 - 578 páginas
...too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother,...the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not: Tlie desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From... | |
 | Nathaniel Parker Willis - 1848 - 504 páginas
...love ! King of a realm without a throne, Ruled by resistless tears alone ! TO M , FROM ABROAD. " The desire of the moth for the star— Of the night for...to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow." SHELLEY. " L'alma, quel che non ha, sogna e figura." MITASTASIO. As, gazing on the Pleiades, We count... | |
 | Edward Bulwer Lytton Baron Lytton - 1849 - 344 páginas
...and let me see yon again to-morrow; on the day after, I leave England for • -ij 254 CHAPTEK LXXVI. But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts...something afar From the sphere of our sorrow ?— PB SHKI LKV. IT was not with a light heart — for I loved Glanville too well, not to be powerfully affected... | |
 | Edward George E.L. Bulwer- Lytton (1st baron.) - 1849 - 336 páginas
...on the day after, I leave Eugland for ever." 254 255 CHAPTER LXXVI. ***** But wilt th ou accept «et The worship the heart lifts above, And the Heavens...something afar From the sphere of -our sorrow ? — PB SHEU.EV, IT was not- with a light heart — for I loved GHtmville too well, not to be powerfully affected... | |
 | 1873 - 610 páginas
[ Lo sentimos, el contenido de esta página está restringido. ] | |
 | John Ruskin - 1889 - 904 páginas
[ Lo sentimos, el contenido de esta página está restringido. ] | |
 | Elizabeth Oakes Prince Smith - 1854 - 360 páginas
...forgotten, and I began to weave fables of the Loves of the Lilies, when I fell asleep. CHAPTER XXXIII. I can give not what men call love — But wilt thou...the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the field of our sorrow, SHELLEY. BERTHA'S journal, at this time, exhibits a period of peculiar and beautiful... | |
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ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love,... 
