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Сторінка 283 - She is not fair to outward view As many maidens be ; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. O then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love, a spring of light. But now her looks are coy and cold, To mine they ne'er reply, And yet I cease not to behold The love-light in her eye : Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are.
Сторінка 115 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Сторінка 465 - Thou preparedst room before it, And didst cause it to take deep root, And it filled the land. The hills were covered with the shadow of it, And the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars. She sent out her boughs unto the sea, And her branches unto the river.
Сторінка 603 - Say, did these fingers delve the mine, Or with its envied rubies shine ? To hew the rock, or wear the gem, Can nothing now avail to them ; But if the page of Truth they sought, Or comfort to the mourner brought, These hands a richer meed shall claim Than all that waits on wealth or fame.
Сторінка 391 - And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings...
Сторінка 49 - O a homeless man, who has no spot on this wide world which he can truly call his own, , there is a momentary - feeling of something like independence and territorial consequence, when, after a weary day's travel, he kicks off his boots, thrusts his feet into slippers, and stretches himself before an inn fire.
Сторінка 627 - And I saw, and behold, a white horse : and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him : and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
Сторінка 53 - As easy may my intellectual soul Be lent away, and yet my body live, As lend my body, palace to my soul, Away from her, and yet retain my soul, My body is her bower, her court, her abbey, And she an angel, pure, divine, unspotted: If I should lend her house, my lord, to thee, I kill my poor soul, and my poor soul me.
Сторінка 273 - For a thousand years in Thy sight Are but as yesterday when it is past, And as a watch in the night. Thou carriest them away as with a flood ; they are as a sleep : In the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and...