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Сторінка 166 - I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; a land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any order and where the light is as darkness.
Сторінка 6 - Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, To Him round whom all souls Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads Bowed with their aureoles; And angels meeting us shall sing To their citherns and citoles.
Сторінка 2 - The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers ; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years.
Сторінка 173 - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Сторінка 4 - Her gaze still strove Within the gulf to pierce Its path; and now she spoke as when The stars sang in their spheres. The sun was gone now; the curled moon Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf; and now She spoke through the still weather. Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.
Сторінка 7 - There will I ask of Christ the Lord Thus much for him and me:— Only to live as once on earth With Love,— only to be, As then awhile, for ever now Together, I and he.' She gazed and listened and then said, Less sad of speech than mild,— 'All this is when he comes.
Сторінка 6 - will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is, With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies, Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret and Rosalys.
Сторінка 4 - I wish that he were come to me, For he will come,' she said. 'Have I not prayed in Heaven? - on earth, Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
Сторінка 144 - See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace !" "Yet here they burn but for a space. Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven .') "Ah ! what white thing at the door has cross'd ? Sister Helen? Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?" "A soul that's lost as mine is lost, Little brother!
Сторінка 176 - And where, I pray you, is the Queen Who willed that Buridan should steer Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine ?But where are the snows of yesteryear ? White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies, With a voice like any mermaiden, — Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice, And Ermengarde the lady of Maine, — And that good Joan whom Englishmen At Rouen doomed and burned her there, — Mother of God, where are they then? — But where are the snows of yesteryear...

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