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Página 14 - 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 28 - In the world's broad field of battle. In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!
Página 149 - The moving Moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside...
Página 205 - Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place ? Suppose you should contradict yourself ; what then...
Página 185 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple...
Página 118 - Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock for ever!
Página 227 - And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Página 185 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Página 96 - I have no churlish objection to the circumnavigation of the globe, for the purposes of art, of study, and benevolence, so that the man is first domesticated, or does not go abroad with the hope of finding somewhat greater than he knows. He who travels to be amused, or to get somewhat which he does not carry, travels away from himself, and grows old even in youth among old things. In Thebes, in Palmyra, his will and mind have become old and dilapidated as they. He carries ruins to ruins.

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