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Сторінка 104 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Сторінка 105 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Сторінка 147 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee : Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Сторінка 117 - Alas ! the love of Women ! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 't is lost, Life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone...
Сторінка 143 - There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found ; And while the mouldering ashes sleep Low in the ground...
Сторінка 284 - Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, and fondly broods with miser care ; time but the impression deeper makes, as streams their channels deeper wear.
Сторінка 61 - My own dim life should teach me this, That life shall live for evermore, Else earth is darkness at the core, And dust and ashes all that is...
Сторінка 294 - Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her.