Memories of some contemporary poets, with selections from their writings, by E. Taylor

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Emily Taylor
Longmans, 1868 - 300 páginas
 

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Página 132 - NEARER, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me ; Still all my song shall be, — Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee...
Página 12 - Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me's a secret yet...
Página 4 - DOES the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will...
Página 4 - Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come.
Página 167 - I thank Thee more that all our joy Is touched with pain ; That shadows fall on brightest hours, That thorns remain ; So that earth's bliss may be our guide, And not our chain.
Página 156 - E'en so — but why the tale reveal Of those whom, year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel, Astounded, soul from soul estranged ? At dead of night their sails were filled, And onward each rejoicing steered ; Ah, neither blame, for neither willed...
Página 203 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Página 50 - As one, who, destined from his friends to part, Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile To share their converse, and enjoy their smile, And tempers, as he may, affliction's dart ; Thus, loved associates, chiefs of elder art, Teachers of wisdom, who could once beguile My tedious hours, and lighten every toil, I now resign you...
Página 178 - And now, what time ye all may read Through dimming tears his story — How discord on the music fell, And darkness on the glory — And how, when, one by one, sweet sounds And wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face, Because so broken-hearted...
Página 134 - And joys and tears alike are sent To give the soul fit nourishment : As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father, Thy will, not mine, be done.

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