Inklings of adventure, by the author of 'Pencillings by the way'.

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Pagina 180 - Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy.
Pagina 230 - Beautiful bird! thou voyagest to thine home, Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine, and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy. And what am I that I should linger here...
Pagina 230 - Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy. And what am I that I should linger here, With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes, Spirit more vast than thine, frame more attuned To beauty, wasting these surpassing powers In the deaf air, to the blind earth, and heaven That echoes not my thoughts?
Pagina 71 - A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn, And the invisible rain did ever sing ' ' A silver music on the mossy lawn ; And still before me on the dusky grass Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn.
Pagina 234 - d devour it all; Which, when the stall-man did espy, Soon to the boy I heard him call, "You Sir, you never buy a book, Therefore in one you shall not look.
Pagina 73 - Most people talk of the sublimity of Trenton, but I have haunted it by the week together for its mere loveliness. The river, in the heart of that fearful chasm, is the most varied and beautiful 'assemblage of the thousand forms and shapes of running water that I know in the world. The soil and the deep-striking roots of the forest terminate far above you, looking like a black rim on the enclosing precipices ; the bed of the river and its sky-sustaining walls are of solid rock, and, with the tremendous...
Pagina 83 - I loved — oh, no, I mean not one of ye, Or any earthly one, though ye are dear As human heart to human heart may be ; I loved I know not what — but this low sphere, And all that it contains, contains not thee, Thou, whom, seen nowhere, I feel everywhere.
Pagina 30 - Let the clouds scowl, make the moon dark, the stars extinct, the winds blowing, the bells tolling, the owls shrieking, the toads croaking, the minutes jarring, and the clock striking twelve.
Pagina 27 - But alas ! affection is a fire, which kindleth as well in the bramble as in the oak, and catcheth hold where it first lighteth, not where it may best burn.
Pagina 282 - But thou, a School-boy, to the sea hadst carried Undying recollections ; Nature there Was with thee ; she, who loved us both, she still Was with thee ; and even so didst thou become A silent Poet ; from the solitude Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart Still couchant, an inevitable ear, And an eye practised like a blind man's touch.

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