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Сторінка 9 - 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.
Сторінка 5 - Mid deathless love's acclaims, Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remembered names ; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Out of the circling charm ; Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, v And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm.
Сторінка 17 - He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne." "What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!) "He yields you these and craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain.
Сторінка 279 - TELL me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman ? Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais, Neither of them the fairer woman ? Where is Echo, beheld of no man, Only heard on river and mere, — She whose beauty was more than human ? . . . But where are the snows of yester-year...
Сторінка 10 - Why did you melt your waxen man, Sister Helen? To-day is the third since you began.' 'The time was long, yet the time ran, Little brother.' (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!) 'But if you have done your work aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might.
Сторінка 6 - 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 - We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree. Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch Saith His Name audibly.
Сторінка 4 - 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 134 - In painting her I shrined her face Mid mystic trees, where light falls in Hardly at all ; a covert place Where you might think to find a din Of doubtful talk, and a live flame Wandering, and many a shape whose name Not itself knoweth, and old dew, And your own footsteps meeting you, And all things going as they came.
Сторінка 242 - You have been mine before, — How long ago I may not know : But just when at that swallow's soar Your neck turned so, Some veil did fall, — I knew it all of yore.

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