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PÓgina 109 - All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; There is no virtue like necessity.
PÓgina 367 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
PÓgina 733 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,— the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods— rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
PÓgina 366 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy.
PÓgina 366 - To see the world in a grain of sand And heaven in a wild flower . . . and then stopped.
PÓgina 138 - Unarm, Eros ; the long day's task is done, And we must sleep.
PÓgina 196 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
PÓgina 367 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.