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Alcott Arthur Hallam Author Balaam beautiful bright calm century Christ Christian Church of England cloth extra coloured Crown 8vo dark dead dear death deep demy 8vo Divine Edition English faith Fcap feeling Full-page Gentle George Herbert gilt edges glory glow grief hear heart heaven High Church History hope human hymn Jules Verne Keble land light living Longfellow look Lord Low Church Lycidas Maps Mary Cowden Clarke Memoriam mind mood moral nature never night numerous Illustrations Oxford movement pain Palace of Art pass passion peace on earth pleasure poem poet poetic poetry political Portraits Prayer Book pulpit religion religious Ring Rose Library seems sense Simeon Stylites sing Small post 8vo song sorrow soul spirit sweet teaching Tennyson thee things thought tion truth unto vision voice vols Volumes whilst wild Woodcuts words Wordsworth
Página 248 - Earth has not anything to show more fair ! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples, lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Página 21 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Página 18 - 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 274 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due...
Página 16 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Página 275 - There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Página 237 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright ; The bridal of the earth and sky : The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Página 269 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Página 267 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.