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Hace 2 días · Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly. Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should, Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare, And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee. Drop heavily down,—burst, shattered, everywhere! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee. And breathe within thy shadow a new air, I do not think of ...
Hace 5 días · Let the world 's sharpness, like a clasping knife, Shut in upon itself and do no harm. In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm, And let us hear no sound of human strife. After the click of the shutting. Life to life—. I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm, And feel as safe as guarded by a charm. Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife.
Hace 3 días · Thomas Carlyle (4 December 1795 – 5 February 1881) was a Scottish essayist, historian, and philosopher from the Scottish Lowlands. A leading writer of the Victorian era, he exerted a profound influence on 19th-century art, literature, and philosophy. Born in Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, Carlyle attended the University of Edinburgh ...
Hace 1 día · Unweary sweep, hills watch unworn, and rife. Meek leaves drop year ]y from the forest-trees. To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass. In their old glory: O thou God of old, Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these !--. But so much patience as a blade of grass. Grows by, contented through the heat and cold.
Hace 4 días · Indeed this very love which is my boast, And which, when rising up from breast to brow, Doth crown me with a ruby large enow. To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,-. This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, I should not love withal, unless that thou. Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
Hace 3 días · The Romaunt Of Margret (excerpts) IX. "My lips do need thy breath, My lips do need thy smile, And my pallid eyne, that light in thine. Which met the stars erewhile: Yet go with light and life. If that thou lovest one. In all the earth who loveth thee.
Hace 5 días · Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! Unlike our uses and our destinies. Our ministering two angels look surprise. On one another, as they strike athwart. Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art. A guest for queens to social pageantries, With gages from a hundred brighter eyes. Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part.
