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/ page 92 of 246 /From Mount Gerizzim
© John Bunyan
Besides what I said of the Four Last Things,
And of the weal and woe that from them springs;
Epigrams
© William Watson
'Tis human fortune's happiest height to be
A spirit melodious, lucid, poised, and whole;
Second in order of felicity
I hold it, to have walk'd with such a soul.
The Borough. Letter XVI: Inhabitants Of The Alms-House. Benlow
© George Crabbe
SEE! yonder badgeman with that glowing face,
A meteor shining in this sober place!
The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished
© John Keats
I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
Charles Vacquerie
© Victor Marie Hugo
Il ne sera pas dit que ce jeune homme, ô deuil !
Se sera de ses mains ouvert l'affreux cercueil
Où séjourne l'ombre abhorrée,
Hélas ! et qu'il aura lui-même dans la mort
De ses jours généreux, encor pleins jusqu'au bord,
Renversé la coupe dorée,
I Saw A New World
© William Brighty Rands
I SAW a new world in my dream,
Where all the folks alike did seem:
Gladys And Her Island
© Jean Ingelow
“Ah, well, but I am here; but I have seen
The gay gorse bushes in their flowering time;
I know the scent of bean-fields; I have heard
The satisfying murmur of the main.”
Benedicite
© John Greenleaf Whittier
God's love and peace be with thee, where
Soe'er this soft autumnal air
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The Second =First Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
MAR. We know that you are not a theologian but a philosopher, and that
you treat of philosophy and not of theology.
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
Tuesday In Whitsun-Week
© John Keble
"Lord, in Thy field I work all day,
I read, I teach, I warn, I pray,
And yet these wilful wandering sheep
Within Thy fold I cannot keep.
A Death in the Bush
© Henry Kendall
For, ere the early settlers came and stocked
These wilds with sheep and kine, the grasses grew
So that they took the passing pilgrim in
And whelmed him, like a running sea, from sight.
Fourth Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
When Nature tries her finest touch,
Weaving her vernal wreath,
Mark ye, how close she veils her round,
Not to be traced by sight or sound,
Nor soiled by ruder breath?
A Tale
© John Logan
Where pastoral Tweed, renown'd in song,
With rapid murmur flows;
In Caledonia's classic ground,
The hall of Arthur rose.
To A Lady, Who Presented To The Author A Lock Of Hair Braided With His Own, And Appointed A Night In
© George Gordon Byron
These locks, which fondly thus entwine,
In firmer chains our hearts confine
Than all th' unmeaning protestations
Which swell with nonsense love orations.
Freedoms
© Gerald Gould
To every hill there is a lowly slope,
But some have heights beyond all height--so high
They make new worlds for the adventuring eye.
We for achievement have forgone our hope,
And shall not see another morning ope,
Nor the new moon come into the new sky.
The Old Pole Star
© Edith Wharton
BEFORE the clepsydra had bound the days
Man tethered Change to his fixed star, and said:
"The elder races, that long since are dead,
Marched by that light; it swerves not from its base
Though all the worlds about it wax and fade."