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appeared beauty bells born bright child Church comes dark dead dear death deep died early earth eyes face fair father feel field flowers friends give gold grave green grow hand head hear heard heart heaven hope human interesting Italy keep kind kiss leaves light literary live London look Manchester Mighty mind morning mother nature never night o'er once passed past Philip van Artevelde poems poet poetry poor present published rest round seemed side sing sleep smile song soul sound stand story summer sweet tears tell thee things thou thought trees true turn verse voice volume waves wild wind writing written Yorkshire young
Seite 49 - I live for those who love me, For those who know me true, For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit, too ; For the cause that lacks assistance, For the wrong that needs resistance, For the future in the distance, And the good that I can do.
Seite 34 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows: The young birds are chirping in the nest; The young fawns are playing with the shadows; The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly ! 10 They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the...
Seite 125 - E'en so — but why the tale reveal Of those whom, year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel, Astounded, soul from soul estranged.
Seite 231 - He came not, — no, he came not, — The night came on alone, — The little stars sat one by one, Each on his golden throne ; The evening wind passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, — But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.
Seite 41 - That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep, Let One most loving of you all Say,
Seite 36 - Turns the long light that drops adown the wall, Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling, All are turning, all the day, and we with all. And all day the iron wheels are droning, And sometimes we could pray, 'O ye wheels' (breaking out in a mad moaning) 'Stop!
Seite 126 - O ONLY Source of all our light and life, Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel, But whom the hours of mortal moral strife Alone aright reveal ! Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought, Thy presence owns ineffable, divine; Chastised each rebel self-encentered thought, My will adoreth Thine.
Seite 35 - With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city, Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do: Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty, Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through!
Seite 125 - Or wist, what first with dawn appeared ! To veer, how vain! On, onward strain. Brave barks! In light, in darkness too, Through winds and tides one compass guides, — To that, and your own selves, be true. But...