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Pagina 65 - But often, in the world's most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life; A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us - to know Whence our lives come and where they go.
Pagina 64 - OTHERS abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask — Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the...
Pagina 438 - For truth only is living, Truth only is whole, And the love of his giving Man's polestar and pole ; Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body, and seed of my soul. One birth of my bosom ; One beam of mine eye ; One topmost blossom That scales the sky ; Man, equal and one with me, man that is made of me, man that is I.
Pagina 71 - So, some tempestuous morn in early June, When the year's primal burst of bloom is o'er, Before the roses and the longest day When garden-walks and all the grassy floor With blossoms red and white of fallen May And chestnut-flowers are strewn So have I heard the cuckoo's parting cry, From the wet field, through the vext garden-trees, Come with the volleying rain and tossing breeze: The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I!
Pagina 64 - Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the foil'd searching of mortality ; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school'd, self-scann'd, self-honour'd, self-secure, Didst tread on earth unguess'd at.
Pagina 395 - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted.
Pagina 66 - Charm is the glory which makes Song of the poet divine ; Love is the fountain of charm. How without charm wilt thou draw, Poet! the world to thy way ? Not by the lightnings of wit! Not by the thunder of scorn ! These to the world, too, are given ; Wit it possesses, and scorn, — Charm is the poet's alone.
Pagina 276 - O not unowned, thou shalt unnamed forgive, In worldly walks the prayerless heart prepare ; And if in work its life it seem to live, Shalt make that work be prayer.