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appeared beauty bells born bright bring child Church comes dark dead dear death deep died early earth entitled 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 leading leaves light literary live London look 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 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 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 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 40 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Seite 284 - Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man's work shall be made manifest; for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is.
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...
Seite 38 - how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart? Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation. And tread onward to your throne amid the mart ! Our blood splashes upward...
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 37 - Two words, Indeed, of praying we remember, And at midnight's hour of harm, 'Our Father," looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm. We know no other words except 'Our Father...
Seite 38 - YES," I answered you last night ; " No," this morning, sir, I say. Colours seen by candle-light, Will not look the same by day. When the viols played their best, Lamps above, and laughs below — Love me sounded like a jest, Fit for Yes or fit for No. Call me false, or call me free — Vow, whatever light may shine, No man on your face shall see Any grief for change on mine.