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Página 112 - 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.
Página 114 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain ; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant...
Página 97 - Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, look'd thrice dispirited; I met a preacher there I knew, and said : " 1ll and o'erworked, how fare you in this scene ? " " Bravely! " said he; " for I of late have been Much cheer'd with thoughts of Christ, the living bread.
Página 192 - Ah, but the way is so long! Years they have been in the wild! Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks, Rising all round, overawe; Factions divide them, their host 180 Threatens to break, to dissolve. — Ah, keep, keep them combined!
Página 213 - 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.
Página 82 - Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there! — Ah, vain! These English fields, this upland dim, These brambles pale with mist engarlanded, That lone, sky-pointing tree, are not for him. To a boon southern country he is fled...
Página 194 - ... not in your heart, Weakness is not in your word, Weariness not on your brow. Ye alight in our van ! at your voice, Panic, despair, flee away. Ye move through the ranks, recall The stragglers, refresh the outworn, Praise, re-inspire the brave ! Order, courage, return. Eyes rekindling, and prayers, Follow your steps as ye go. Ye fill up the gaps in our files, Strengthen the wavering line, Stablish, continue our march, On, to the bound of the waste, On, to the City of God.
Página 75 - ... rare, grow now my visits here, But once I knew each field, each flower, each stick; And with the country-folk acquaintance made By barn in threshing-time, by new-built rick. Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we first assay'd.
Página 183 - Silent ; — hardly a shout From a few boys late at their play ! The lights come out in the street, In the school-room windows — but cold, Solemn, unlighted, austere, Through the gathering darkness, arise The chapel-walls, in whose bound Thou, my father ! art laid.
Página 134 - mid rock and wood ; And Hector was in Ilium, far below, And fought, and saw it not, but there it stood. It stood, and sun and moonshine rain'd their light On the pure columns of its glen-built hall ; Backward and forward roll'd the waves of fight Round Troy ; but while this stood. Troy could not fall.

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