The Vital Study of Literature, and Other Essays

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C. H. Sergel, 1912 - 380 pages
 

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Page 80 - All things transitory But as symbols are sent : Earth's insufficiency Here grows to Event : The Indescribable, Here it is done : The Woman-Soul leadeth us Upward and on!
Page 98 - Le zéphyr ou l'aquilon Depuis ce jour me promène De la forêt à la plaine, De la montagne au vallon . Je vais où le vent me mène; Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer ; Je vais où va toute chose, Où va la feuille de rose, Et la feuille de laurier.
Page 339 - But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first, Copious I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes, With loaded arms I come, pouring for you, For you and the coffins all of you, O death.) 8 O western orb, sailing the heaven, Now I know what you must have meant as a month since I walk'd...
Page 96 - Mary of Egypt lacked not of that bliss, Nor yet the sorrowful clerk Theophilus, Whose bitter sins were set aside even thus Though to the Fiend his bounden service was. Oh help me, lest in vain for me should pass (Sweet Virgin that shalt have no loss thereby !) The blessed Host and sacring of the Mass. Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
Page 315 - Now I a fourfold vision see And a fourfold vision is given to me ; Tis fourfold in my supreme delight, And threefold in soft Beulah's night, And twofold always. May God us keep From single vision, and Newton's sleep ! I also enclose you some ballads by Mr.
Page 341 - Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there in the night, By the sea under the yellow and sagging moon, The messenger there arous'd, the fire, the sweet hell within, The unknown want, the destiny of me.
Page 342 - Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother, That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs at random, My own songs awaked from that hour, And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song and all songs...
Page 335 - Behold this compost! behold it well! Perhaps every mite has once form'd part of a sick person — yet behold! The grass of spring covers the prairies, The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward, The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches, The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves...
Page 79 - Each thing of mortal birth Is but a type; What was of feeble worth Here becomes ripe! What was a mystery Here meets the eye; The everwomanly Draws us on high.
Page 314 - For double the vision my eyes do see, And a double vision is always with me.

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