1891-1893J. Lane, 1896 |
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Popular passages
Page 32 - By this he knew she wept with waking eyes : That, at his hand's light quiver by her head, The strange low sobs that shook their common bed, Were called into her with a sharp surprise, And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes, Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes Her giant heart of Memory and Tears Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet Were moveless, looking...
Page 181 - ... frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments
Page 190 - WHEN the dumb Hour, clothed in black, Brings the Dreams about my bed, Call me not so often back, Silent Voices of the dead, Toward the lowland ways behind me, And the sunlight that is gone! Call me rather, silent voices, Forward to the starry track Glimmering up the heights beyond me On, and always on!
Page 105 - Ever the faith endures, England, my England: — "Take and break us ; we are yours, England, my own! Life is good, and joy runs high Between English earth and sky: Death is death ; but we shall die To the Song on your bugles blown, England — To the stars on your bugles blown!
Page 111 - Ye have read, ye have heard, ye have thought," he said, "and the tale is yet to run: "By the worth of the body that once ye had, give answer — what ha
Page 89 - When mine eyes had wept for some while, until they were so weary with weeping that I could no longer through them give ease to my sorrow, I bethought me that a few mournful words might stand me instead of tears. And therefore I proposed to make a poem, that weeping I might speak therein of her for whom so much sorrow had destroyed my spirit ; and I then began "The eyes that weep.
Page 131 - Mong the blossoms white and red — Look up, look up. I flutter now On this flush pomegranate bough. See me! 'tis this silvery bill Ever cures the good man's ill. Shed no tear!
Page 106 - For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be — By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; On the road to Mandalay, Where the old Flotilla lay, With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
Page 35 - We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, And in the osier-isle we heard them noise. We had not to look back on summer joys, Or forward to a summer of bright dye: But in the largeness of the evening earth Our spirits grew as we went side by side. The hour became her husband and my bride. Love that had robbed us so, thus blessed our dearth ! The pilgrims of the year waxed...
Page 33 - Now kiss me, dear! it may be, now!" she said. Lethe had passed those lips, and he knew all. Thus piteously Love closed what he begat: The union of this ever-diverse pair! These two were rapid falcons in a snare, Condemned to do the flitting of the bat. Lovers beneath the singing sky of May, They wandered once; clear as the dew on flowers: But they fed not on the advancing hours: Their hearts held cravings for the buried day. Then each applied to each that fatal knife, Deep questioning, which probes...