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angel arms beautiful bell beneath birds breath bright Carlos changed child Chis clouds comes Count dance dark dead Death dreams earth Enter eyes face fair faith fall father fear feel fire flowers follow Gipsy girl give gold golden grave hand hast head hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour land Lara leaves light lips live look maiden morning never night o'er once Padre pass play poem poor Pray prayer Preciosa rain rest ring rise river round sail Saint SCENE seemed shadows ship silent singing sleep soft song soul sound speak stands stars stood strong sweet Take tears tell thee things thou thou art thought trees Vict village voice wait walk wall wave wild wind window young youth
Página 292 - THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small ; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Página 10 - 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,
Página 327 - ALL are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time ; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Página 15 - SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. Stars they are, wherein we read our history, As astrologers and seers of eld ; Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, Like the burning stars, which they beheld.
Página 97 - At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt-sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes ; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe ! THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.
Página 326 - What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ Himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
Página 90 - Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow.
Página 14 - Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the road-side fell and perished, Weary with the march of life...