Peeps at Life, And, Studies in My Cell

Simpkin, Marshall & Company, 1875 - 242 páginas
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Página 109 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner...
Página 141 - From my youth upwards My Spirit walked not with the souls of men, Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine; My joys— my griefs— my passions— and my powers, Made me a stranger; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh...
Página 102 - A wandering mass of shapeless flame, A pathless comet, and a curse, The menace of the universe; Still rolling on with innate force, Without a sphere, without a course, A bright deformity on high, The monster of the upper sky!
Página 232 - She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue. Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue: Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard, Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd...
Página 101 - To bind me in existence — in a life Which makes me shrink from immortality — A future like the past. I cannot rest I know not what I ask, nor what I seek : I feel but what thou art — and what I am ; And I would hear yet once before I perish The voice which was my music — Speak to...
Página 235 - O dry your eyes ! For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies — Shed no tear. Overhead ! look overhead ! 'Mong the blossoms white and red — Look up, look up. I flutter now On this fresh pomegranate bough.
Página 214 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Página 103 - My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing Flit o'er the herbless granite...
Página 97 - This should have been a noble creature: he Hath all the energy which would have made A goodly frame of glorious elements, Had they been wisely mingled; as it is, It is an awful chaos — light and darkness, And mind and dust, and passions and pure thoughts, Mix'd, and contending without end or order, All dormant or destructive.
Página 103 - Where the birds dare not build, nor insects wing Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge Into the torrent, and to roll along On the swift whirl of the new breaking wave Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow. In these my early strength exulted; or To follow through the night the moving moon, The stars and their development...

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