Poets in the Pulpit

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Sampson, Law, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1880 - 291 pągines
 

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Pągina 21 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Pągina 18 - There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Pągina 275 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves ; Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing, in their glory move And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Pągina 16 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Pągina 237 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright; The bridal of the earth and sky : The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die.
Pągina 267 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Pągina 269 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Pągina 251 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Pągina 180 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.
Pągina 271 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the arme'd throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by 51 TT 52 BOOK SECOND.

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