Swinburne: An Estimate

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J. M. Dent, 1913 - 215 Seiten
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Seite 66 - I will go back to the great sweet mother, Mother and lover of men, the sea. I will go down to her, I and none other, Close with her, kiss her and mix her with me ; Cling to her, strive with her, hold her fast; O fair white mother, in days long past Born without sister, born without brother, Set free my soul as thy soul is free. 0 fair green-girdled mother of mine, Sea, that art clothed with the sun and the rain, Thy sweet hard kisses are strong like wine, Thy large embraces are keen like pain. Save...
Seite 90 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Seite 43 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Seite 81 - No, no ! the energy of life may be Kept on after the grave, but not begun ; And he who flagg'd not in the earthly strife, From strength to strength advancing — only he, His soul well-knit, and all his battles won, Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life.
Seite 7 - Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Seite 3 - Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn...
Seite 28 - Though one were strong as seven, He too with death shall dwell, Nor wake with wings in heaven, Nor weep for pains in hell ; Though one were fair as roses, His beauty clouds and closes; And well though love reposes In the end it is not well.
Seite 35 - That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea. Then star nor sun shall waken, Nor any change of light: Nor sound of waters shaken, Nor any sound or sight : Nor wintry leaves nor vernal, Nor days nor things diurnal; Only the sleep eternal In an eternal night.
Seite 29 - Earth, stones, and thorns of the wild ground growing, While the sun and the rain live, these shall be ; Till a last wind's breath upon all these blowing Roll the sea. Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble, Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink, Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink, Here now in his triumph where all things falter, Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread, As a god self-slain on his own...
Seite 7 - The Sick Rose O rose, thou art sick; The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.

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