...truth. Again: "Crying to be slit with eyeholes." We think of a mid-Victorian quatrain in contrast: So runs my dream; but what am I ? An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light And with no language but a cry!" The Jeffers line is strong. The "In Memoriam" stanza is strong, with something...

...trust that good shall fall At last — far off — at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant, crying...the night, — An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry. (ii) And that cry of his poor fearful children will assuredly reach our...

...Hamlet, Act v. Sc. I. O yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill. In Memoriam. liii. But what am I ? An infant crying in the night : An infant crying for the light : And with no language but a cry. Ibid. liii. So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single...

...trust that good shall fall At last — far off — at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying...in the night : An infant crying for the light : And with no language but a cry. 58 The Sleep. [By ELIZABETH BAREETT BROWNIXO, born in England in 1809;...

...the mere rubbish and debris of the pile, shall be wrought at last into the grand eternal structure. But what am I ? "An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry." Surely Cyril Denham and I may help each other. How beautiful a mind he...

...drawing nothing out. We are content with holier modesty; to lay our hands upon our lips and to say : So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying...in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry. Changed modes of expression, changed points of view, which — though they...

...trust that good shall fall • At last, far off, at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. "So runs my dream: but what am I? An infant crying...in the night: An infant crying for the light ; And with no language but a cry." But this " dream " has its nightmare. The poet is oppressed by horrible...

...trnst that good shall fall At last, far off, at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. " So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying...in the night: An infant crying for the light ; And with no language but A cry." But this " dream " has its nightmare. The poet is oppressed by horrible...

...sympathize instinctively when we hear a soul benighted wailing in the voice of reverence and prayer : — "but what am I? An infant crying in the night ; An infant crying for the light ; And with no language but a cry." It wonderfully relieves our sympathy of its burden when berating takes...

...footing in the swelling of Jordan. Lux e tenebris—who will not prize it ? who does not need it ? For— "What am I? An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry." and with an earnestness amounting to agony, leaving theii home, like the...