Life, by J. Forster

Priekinis viršelis
Chapman and Hall, 1876
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222 psl. - ROSE AYLMER AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
77 psl. - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer, Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike ; Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
362 psl. - If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein as in a mirror we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit— If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.
549 psl. - ... man's life left pure, Man's death set free, Not with disdain of days that were Look earthward now ; Let dreams revive the reverend hair, The imperial brow ; Come back in sleep, for in the life Where thou art not We find none like thee. Time and strife And the world's lot Move thee no more ; but love at least And reverent heart May move thee, royal and released, Soul, as thou art. And thou, his Florence, to thy trust Receive and keep, Keep safe his dedicated dust, His sacred sleep. So shall thy...
456 psl. - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
14 psl. - tis and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely, and all die (Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart) Among their kindred in their native place. I never pluck the rose ; the violet's head Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank And not reproached me ; the ever-sacred cup Of the pure lily hath between my hands Felt safe, unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold.
442 psl. - twas when all bees should sleep, And all did sleep but hers. She was sent forth To bring that light which never wintry blaSt Blows out, nor rain nor snow extinguishes, The light that shines from loving eyes upon Eyes that love back, till they can see no more.
68 psl. - Sir, I am obliged to you for having asked me this evening. Parr is a fair man. I do not know when I have had an occasion of such free controversy. It is remarkable how much of a man's life may pass without meeting with any instance of this kind of open discussion.
438 psl. - Perhaps there is no harm in it ; perhaps it makes them no crueler than they would be otherwise. But it is hard to take away what we cannot give ; and life is a pleasant thing, at least to birds. No doubt the young ones say tender things one to another, and even the old ones do not dream of death.
61 psl. - And the long moonbeam on the hard wet sand Lay like a jasper column half up-rear d." " The king, who sat before his tent, descried The dust rise redden'd from the setting sun.

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