Sprigs of Poetry

Capa
Balance publishing Company, 1907 - 128 páginas
 

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Página 12 - Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they Find their acquaintance there. For us the winds do blow; The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. Nothing we see but means our good, As our delight, or as our treasure: The whole is, either our cupboard of food, Or cabinet of pleasure. The stars have us to bed ; Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws : Music and light attend our head. All things unto our flesh are kind In their descent and being; to our mind In their ascent and...
Página 24 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and Music in its roar...
Página 12 - Man is all symmetry, Full of proportions, one limb to another, And all to all the world besides: Each part may call the farthest, brother: For head with foot hath private amity, And both with moons and tides.
Página 127 - gainst time or fate, For lo ! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day, The friends I seek are seeking me : No wind can drive my bark astray, Or change the tide of destiny.
Página 45 - I like the man who faces what he must With step triumphant and a heart of cheer; Who fights the daily battle without fear; Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust That God is God; that somehow, true and just, His plans work out for mortals; not a tear Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear, Falls from his grasp; better, with love, a crust Than living in dishonor ; envies not, Nor loses faith in man ; but does his best, Nor even murmurs at his humbler lot; But with a smile and words...
Página 43 - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
Página 43 - In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate : I am the captain of my soul.
Página 128 - We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Página 58 - They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
Página 116 - There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, There are souls that are pure and true; Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you.

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