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angels appear bear blessed born bring called Christ comes comfort dark death divine doth doubt earth eternal eyes face faith fall Father fear feeling flowers George give glory grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly hell Herbert holy hope human hymn Jesus keep kind king leave less light live look Lord means Milton mind move nature never night once peace play poem poet poetry poor praise prayer present reader regard religious remarkable rest rise round sense shine sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit stand stanza star sweet symbol tell thee thine things thou thought true truth turn unto utterance verse voice wonder worship worthy write
Side 207 - The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Side 122 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
Side 310 - Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, GOD!
Side 139 - Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Side 248 - See, how the orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn, Into the blowing roses, (Yet careless of its mansion new, For the clear region where 'twas born,) Round in itself incloses And, in its little globe's extent, Frames, as it can, its native element. How it the purple flower does slight, Scarce touching where it lies ; But gazing back upon the skies, Shines with a mournful light, Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere.
Side 310 - Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — Thou too again, stupendous Mountain!
Side 205 - For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould; And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Side 287 - Through this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou know'st if best bestowed or not; And let Thy will be done.