Over the teacups

Framsida
Houghton Mifflin, 1892
 

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Sida 301 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Sida 26 - I am this day fourscore years old: and can I discern between good and evil? can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women? wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden unto my lord the king?
Sida 38 - TERMINUS It is time to be old, To take in sail: — The god of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds, And said: "No more!
Sida 191 - In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Sida 141 - Thus with the year Seasons return ; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flucks, or herds, or human face divine...
Sida 156 - What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly; things moral, or things evangelical; things sacred, or things profane; things past, or things to come; things foreign, or things at home; things more essential, or things circumstantial; provided that all be done to our profit.
Sida 235 - A world primal again, vistas of glory incessant and branching, A new race dominating previous ones and grander far, with new contests, New politics, new literatures and religions, new inventions and arts.
Sida 238 - ... from a lawless independence to which all the virile energy and trampling audacity of Mr. Whitman fail to reconcile me. But there is room for everybody and everything in our huge hemisphere. Young America is like a three-year-old colt with his saddle and bridle just taken off. The first thing he wants to do is to roll. He is a droll object, sprawling in the grass with his four hoofs in the air ; but he likes it, and it won't harm us. So let him roll, — let him roll...
Sida 49 - Don Juan," telling us to look into " Man's heart, and view the hell that 's there ! " I hope I am quoting correctly, but I am more of a scholar in Wordsworth than in Byron. Was Parson Young's own heart such a hideous spectacle to himself ? If it was, he had better have stripped off his surplice. No, — it was nothing but the cant of his calling. In Byron it was a mood...
Sida 48 - The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs Of one tired out with fun and madness ; The tears which came to Matthew's eyes Were tears of light, the dew of gladness. Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up — He felt with spirit so profound.

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