Between the Heather and the Northern Sea, Band 1

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R. Bentley, 1884

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Seite 304 - They parted— ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining — They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between;— But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Seite 212 - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie : His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Seite 203 - The world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
Seite 213 - For, don't you mark ? we're made so that we love First when we see them painted, things we have passed Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; And so they are better, painted — better to us, Which is the same thing. Art was given for that; God uses us to help each other so, Lending our minds out.
Seite 214 - However, you're my man, you've seen the world — The beauty and the wonder and the power, The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades, Changes, surprises, — and God made it all! — For what? Do you feel thankful, ay or no, For this fair town's face, yonder river's line, The mountain round it and the sky above, Much more the figures of man, woman, child, These are the frame to?
Seite 160 - With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces.
Seite 152 - At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there ; A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
Seite 25 - She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine...
Seite 171 - I do distrust the poet who discerns No character or glory in his times, And trundles back his soul five hundred years, AURORA LEIGH. Past moat and drawbridge, into a castle-court, To sing — oh, not of lizard or of toad Alive i...
Seite 102 - Of me you shall not win renown : You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired : The daughter of a hundred Earls, You are not one to be desired. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name, Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came.

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