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18 de may. de 2024 · The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. Blow, bugle; answers, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar. The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Hace 1 día · Tiresias. I wish I were as in the years of old. While yet the blessed daylight made itself. Ruddy thro' both the roofs of sight, and woke. These eyes, now dull, but then so keen to seek. The meanings ambush'd under all they saw, The flight of birds, the flame of sacrifice, What omens may foreshadow fate to man.
Hace 2 días · Wide, wild, and open to the air, Which had built up everywhere. An under-roof of doleful gray. With an inner voice the river ran, Adown it floated a dying swan, And loudly did lament. It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on, And took the reed-tops as it went.
Hace 4 días · I have done it, while you were asleep--you were only made for the day. I have gather'd my baby together --and now you may go your way. VI. Nay--for it's kind of you, Madam, to sit by an old dying wife. But say nothing hard of my boy, I have only an hour of life. I kiss'd my boy in the prison, before he went out to die.
Hace 2 días · Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go. He froth'd his bumpers to the brim; A jollier year we shall not see. But tho' his eyes are waxing dim, And tho' his foes speak ill of him, He was a friend to me. Old year, you shall not die; We did so laugh and cry with you,
Hace 4 días · Sweet And Low. Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Hace 2 días · Love. I. Thou, from the first, unborn, undying Love, Albeit we gaze not on thy glories near, Before the face of God didst breathe and move, Though night and pain and rain and death reign here. Thou foldest, like a golden atmosphere, The very throne of the eternal God; Passing through thee the edicts of his fear.
