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Page 14 - But the time will come, at last it will, When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say, In the lower earth, in the years long still, That body and soul so pure and gay? Why your hair was amber, I shall divine, And your mouth of your own geranium's red, And what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead.
Page 347 - I shall never, in the years remaining, Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues, Make you music that should all-express me; So it seems: I stand on my attainment. This of verse alone, one life allows me; Verse and nothing else have I to give you Other heights in other lives, God willing: All the gifts from all the heights, your own, love!
Page 183 - AH, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you And did you speak to him again ? How strange it seems and new...
Page 133 - Might she have loved me? Just as well She might have hated, who can tell? Where had I been now if the worst befell? And here we are riding, she and I. Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?
Page 280 - Could I wrestle to raise him from sorrow, grow poor to enrich, To fill up his life, starve my own out, I would — knowing which, I know that my service is perfect.
Page 104 - What in the midst lay but the Tower itself? The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart, Built of brown stone, without a counterpart In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf He strikes on, only when the timbers start.
Page 102 - Which, while I forded, — good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek, Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair ,or beard ! — It may have been a water-rat I speared, But, ugh ! it sounded like a baby's shriek.
Page 41 - Then they left you for their pleasure: till in due time, one by one. Some with lives that came to nothing, some with deeds as well undone. Death came tacitly and took them where they never see the sun.
Page 19 - By and by there's the travelling doctor gives pills, lets blood, draws teeth ; Or the Pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath. At the post-office such a scene-picture— the new play, piping hot ! And a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were shot. Above it, behold the Archbishop's most fatherly of rebukes, And beneath, with his crown and his lion, some little new law of the Duke's ! Or a sonnet with flowery marge, to the reverend Don So-and-so Who is Dante, Boccaccio, Petrarca,...