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amid beautiful birds bloom blue breast breath bright brown Comes cyclamen dark darling death deep delicious delight divine dream Eleänore eyes fair fate feet flow flowers fluttered flying fresh garden Gate gaze girl golden grave Greek grow hair happy heart Helen hills joyous King kiss knew lady laugh leaves light lips live look love's magical maiden marvellous meet mighty morning mouth mystic never night o'er once pass passionate perfect poet pulse rhyme river rose Rupert seems sing sleep soft song soon spirit stands star strange stream summer sweet swift thee thing thou thought touch tree true VIII violet vision Waits wandering waters wave weary wild wind wine Winter young
Página 122 - If by an arrangement dual I were Adams mixed with Whewell, Then some day I, as wooer, perhaps might come To so sweet an Artium Magistra. CHLOE, MA AD AMANTEM SUUM.
Página 182 - May I not dream God sends thee there, Thou mellow angel of the air, Even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes With music's soul, all praise and prayer? Is that thy lesson in the limes ? Closer to God art thou than I ; His minstrel thou, whose brown wings fly Through silent aether's sunnier climes.
Página 165 - But wherefore one's age be revealing ? Leave that to the Registry books. A man — is as old as he's feeling; A woman, as old as she looks; Don't eagles live longer than rooks ? Besides, in this festival season 'Tis fit that great truths should be told : ' Whom the gods love, die young' — for this reason, They cannot grow old.
Página 146 - RIVER of Dart! O river of Dart! Every year thou claimest a heart. Beautiful river, through fringe of fern Gliding swift to the southern sea, Such is the fame thy wild waves earn, Such is the dirge men sing by thee : For the cry of Dart is the voice of doom, When the floods are out in the moorland gloom.
Página 124 - If with giddier girls I play Croquet through the summer day On the turf, Then at night ('tis no great boon) Let me study how the moon Sways the surf.
Página 90 - Then the oars of Ithaca dip so Silently into the sea That they wake not sad Calypso— And the Hero wanders free : He breasts the ocean-furrows, At war with the words of Fate— And the blue tide's low susurrus Comes up to the Ivory Gate.
Página 47 - NO ; I shall pass into the Morning Land As now from sleep into the life of morn ; Live the new life of the new world, unshorn Of the swift brain, the executing hand ; See the dense darkness suddenly withdrawn, As when Orion's sightless eyes discerned the dawn. I shall behold it ; I shall see the utter Glory of sunrise heretofore unseen, Freshening the woodland ways with brighter green, And calling into life all wings that flutter, All throats of music and all eyes of light, And driving o'er the verge...
Página 186 - COMING OF AGE. THE poet may tread earth sadly, Yet is he Dreamland's king, And the fays at his bidding gladly Visions of beauty bring ; But his joys will be rarer, finer, Away from this earthly stage, When he, who is now a minor, Comes of age. II. For him soft leaflets cluster Of violet, ivy, and vine ; For him leaps livelier lustre From purple depth of wine : Pauses the song of the Sirens, Closes the Sibyl's page, Till he, whom earth environs, Comes of age.