Nessie's Hero

James Clarke and Company, 1870 - 246 páginas
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Página 1 - A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift — A Love in desolation masked ; — a Power Girt round with weakness ; — it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow ; — even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly : on a cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.
Página 148 - Heaven's winged hound, polluting from thy lips His beak in poison not his own, tears up My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by, The ghastly people of the realm of dream...
Página 147 - Thou comest as the memory of a dream, Which now is sad because it hath been sweet ; Like genius, or like joy which riseth up As from the earth, clothing with golden clouds The desert of our life.
Página 206 - Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain, Long I to-night for your presence again. Come from the silence so long and so deep; — Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep!
Página 148 - Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured ; without herb, Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life.
Página 69 - And though that he was worthy he was wise, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vilanie ne sayde In alle his lif, unto no manere wight. He was a veray parfit gentil knight.
Página 41 - And all the host of heaven shall be dissolved, and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll...
Página 146 - From all the blasts of heaven thou hast descended : Yes, like a spirit, like a thought, which makes Unwonted tears throng to the horny eyes, And beatings haunt the desolated heart, Which should have learnt repose: thou hast descended Cradled in tempests; thou dost wake, O Spring!
Página 81 - Thou shalt have fame ! Oh, mockery ! give the reed From storms a shelter, — give the drooping vine Something round which its tendrils may entwine, — Give the parch'd flower a rain-drop, and the meed Of love's kind words to woman ! Worthless fame ! That in his bosom wins not for my name Th...
Página 148 - The crawling glaciers pierce me with the spears Of their moon-freezing crystals, the bright chains Eat with their burning cold into my bones.

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