Narrative and elegiac poems

Priekinis viršelis
Macmillan, 1869

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200 psl. - 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 willed Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.
108 psl. - 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.
34 psl. - I say : Fear not ! Life still Leaves human effort scope. But, since life teems with ill, Nurse no extravagant hope ; Because thou must not dream, thou need'st not then despair ! A long pause.
228 psl. - Children of men ! the unseen Power, whose eye For ever doth accompany mankind, Hath look'd on no religion scornfully That men did ever find. "Which has not taught weak wills how much they can? Which has not fall'n on the dry heart like rain ? Which has not cried to sunk, self-weary man : Thou must be born again...
232 psl. - For he pursued a lonely road, His eyes on Nature's plan ; Neither made man too much a God, Nor God too much a man.
108 psl. - Sophocles long ago Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery; we Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
198 psl. - Weary of myself and sick of asking What I am and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. And a look of passionate desire O'er the sea and to the stars I send : "Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, Calm me, Ah, compose me to the end ! "Ah, once more...
219 psl. - 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.
115 psl. - One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, One lesson which in every wind is blown, One lesson of two duties kept at one Though the loud world proclaim their enmity — Of toil unsever'd from tranquillity! Of labour, that in lasting fruit outgrows Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose, Too great for haste, too high for rivalry!
220 psl. - Here leave us to die out with these Last of the people who believe ! Silent, while years engrave the brow ; Silent — the best are silent now.

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