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The Legend of Genevieve: With Other Tales and Poems
David Macbeth Moir
Previsualització no disponible - 2016
amid appear beauty behold beneath birds bliss bloom blue boughs breast breath breeze bright calm charms cheek clouds dark death deep delight depart desolate dream earth face fair fall fate fear feelings fields flowers gaze gloom glory glow grave green grove hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human land leaves light living lonely look melancholy memory mind morn mountain never night o'er ocean pass pass'd past pride pure rest rise roll rose round scene seen setting shade shadows shine side sigh sight silent sleep smile soul sound spirit spread spring star stone storm stream summer sweet tear tell tempest thee thine thou thought tree turn Twas visions voice walls wandering wave wild winds wing woods young youth
Pàgina 311 - HOW doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people ! How is she become as a widow ! she that was great among the nations, And princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary!
Pàgina 178 - Alas ! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert ; whence arise But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste, Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes, Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies, And trees whose gums are poison ; such the plants Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.
Pàgina 312 - And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation: neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and Satyrs shall dance there.
Pàgina 44 - But love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From heaven it came, to heaven returneth ; Too oft on earth a troubled guest, At times deceived, at times opprest, It here is tried and purified, Then hath in heaven its perfect rest : It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest-time of Love is there.
Pàgina 312 - It shall never be inhabited, Neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation : Neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there ; Neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there ; And their houses shall be full of doleful creatures ; And owls shall dwell there, And satyrs shall dance there. And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, And dragons in their pleasant palaces: And her time is near to come, And her days shall...
Pàgina 103 - HERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear! Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ! Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear — Jessy ! Although thou maun never be mine, Although even hope is denied, 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms, But welcome the dream o...
Pàgina 203 - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie : His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Pàgina 312 - Chaldees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation : neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there ; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there ; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures ; and owls shall dwell there, arid satyrs shall dance there...
Pàgina 234 - The summer flowers in beauty blow, And sighs the wind, and floods the rain, O'er some old bones that rot below ; No other record can we trace Of fame or fortune, rank or race ! Then what is life, when thus we see No trace remains of life's career ? — Mortal ! whoe'er thou art, for thee A moral lesson gloweth here ; Putt'st thou in aught of earth thy trust ? 'Tis doom'd that dust shall mix with dust.
Pàgina 310 - Coriolanus, who was afraid that "girls with spits, and boys with stones, should slay him in puny battle"; when the other crosses my imagination. I remember the prodigy in Macbeth, An eagle tow'ring in his pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.