The Wine of LifeJohn Lane, 1908 - 328 sidor |
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Sida 231 - Oh, the little more, and how much it is ! And the little less, and what worlds away...
Sida 230 - Before the beginning of years, There came to the making of man Time, with a gift of tears; Grief, with a glass that ran; Pleasure, with pain for leaven; Summer, with flowers that fell; Remembrance fallen from heaven, And madness risen from hell; Strength without hands to smite; Love that endures for a breath; Night, the shadow of light, And life, the shadow of death.
Sida 271 - Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!
Sida 71 - You have chosen and clung to the chance they sent you, Life sweet as perfume and pure as prayer, But will it not one day in heaven repent you ? Will they solace you wholly, the days that were ? Will you lift up your eyes between sadness and bliss, Meet mine, and see where the great love is, And tremble and turn and be changed ? Content you ; The gate is strait; I shall not be there.
Sida 230 - So tired, so tired, my heart and I! It was not thus in that old time When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime To watch the sunset from the sky. 'Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said, I, smiling at him, shook my head: 'Tis now we're tired , my heart and I.
Sida 66 - But jealous souls will not be answered so ; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Sida 66 - He looked at her, as a lover can ; She looked at him, as one who awakes, — The past was a sleep, and her life began.
Sida 288 - Escape me? Never— Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us both, Me the loving and you the loth, While the one eludes, must the other pursue. My life is a fault at last, I fear: It seems too much like a fate, indeed! Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed. But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, And, baffled, get up...
Sida 230 - How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers to the lute ! To-day I venture all I know. She will not hear my music ? So ! Break the string ; fold music's wing : Suppose Pauline had bade me sing ! My whole life long I learned to love.
Sida 81 - All they spat out and cursed at her And cast her forth for a base thing. They cursed her, seeing how God had wrought This curse to plague her, a curse of his. Fools were they surely, seeing not How sweeter than all sweet she is.