Poems of Many Years

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Sida 245 - But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, — no, he came not, — The night came on alone, — The...
Sida 123 - If you have no power of giving ; — An arm of aid to the weak ; — A friendly hand to the friendless ; — Kind words so short to speak, But whose echo is endless — The world is wide ; these things are small ; They may be nothing, but they are all.
Sida 239 - Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; You are too bold: I must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I'm told. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? All that love me...
Sida 239 - LADY MOON, Lady Moon, where are you roving ? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving ? All that love me.
Sida 115 - Long-ago. On that deep-retiring shore Frequent pearls of beauty lie, Where the passion-waves of yore Fiercely beat and mounted high : Sorrows that are sorrows still Lose the bitter taste of woe ; Nothing's altogether ill In the griefs of Long-ago. Tombs where lonely love repines, Ghastly tenements of tears, Wear the look of happy shrines Through the golden mist of years : Death, to those who trust in good, Vindicates his hardest blow ; Oh ! we would not, if we could, Wake the sleep of Long-ago !...
Sida 110 - And more — though free from seeming harm, You rest from toil of mind or arm, Or slow retire from pleasure's charm — If then a painful sense comes on, Of something wholly lost and gone, Vainly enjoyed, or vainly done — Of something from your being's chain Broke off, nor to be linked again...
Sida 127 - ... nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet : For flowers that grow our hands beneath We struggle and aspire, — Our hearts must die, except they breathe The air of fresh desire. " But, brothers, who up reason's hill Advance with hopeful cheer...
Sida 127 - A man's best things are nearest him,. Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet...
Sida 110 - So should we live, that every hour May die as dies the natural flower, — A self-reviving thing of power; That every thought and every deed May hold within itself the seed Of future good and future need: Esteeming sorrow, whose employ Is to develop not destroy. Far better than a barren joy.
Sida 166 - And unresponsive even there This heart of mine could still remain, And its intrinsic evil bear To realms that know no other pain. Better down nature's scale to roll, Far as the base unbreathing clod, Than rest a conscious reasoning soul, Impervious to the light of God ; — Hateful the powers...

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