The Living Age ..., Հատոր 208

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Littell, Son and Company, 1896
 

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Էջ 54 - And see all sights from pole to pole, And glance, and nod, and bustle by; And never once possess our soul Before we die.
Էջ 182 - God's eternal store, to circumscribe This universe, and all created things: One foot he centred, and the other turn'd Round through the vast profundity obscure, And said, ' Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds, This be thy just circumference, O world!
Էջ 179 - He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fired my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing; Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
Էջ 498 - I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell, But this I know and know full well, I do not love thee, Dr. Fell...
Էջ 53 - Wandering between two worlds, one dead, The other powerless to be born, With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlorn. Their faith, my tears, the world deride; I come to shed them at their side.
Էջ 517 - When you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, "Am I inclined to work as an Australian miner would ? Are my pickaxes and shovels in good order, and am I in good trim myself, my sleeves well up to the elbow, and my breath good, and my temper?
Էջ 113 - Yet three filled zodiacs had he been The stage's jewel; And did act, what now we moan, Old men so duly, As, sooth, the Parcae thought him one, He played so truly.
Էջ 200 - ... successful exertions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as honourable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an accident ? To all these noble lords the language of the noble duke is as applicable and as insulting as it is to myself.
Էջ 53 - But we, brought forth and rear'd in hours Of change, alarm, surprise — What shelter to grow ripe is ours ? What leisure to grow wise ? • Like children bathing on the shore, Buried a wave beneath, The second wave succeeds, before We have had time to breathe. Too fast we live, too much are tried, Too harass'd, to attain Wordsworth's sweet calm, or Goethe's wide And luminous view to gain.
Էջ 54 - 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...

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