Macmillan's Magazine, Volume 27

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Macmillan and Company, 1873
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Page 123 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Page 128 - And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience ; .and patience, experience; and experience, hope: and hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.
Page 139 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Page 121 - For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot : Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed ; ' I am half sick of shadows,
Page 121 - And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. In front they bound the sheaves. Behind Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil, And hoary to the wind.
Page 137 - Before his work be done, but, being done, Let visions of the night or of the day Come as they will ; and many a time they come, Until this earth he walks on seems not earth, This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, This air that smites his forehead is not air...
Page 383 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death. " 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, 0 life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Page 157 - So Jonah went out of the city, and sat on the east side of the city, and there made him a booth, and sat under it in the shadow, till he might see what would become of the city.
Page 138 - Let no man dream but that I love thee still. Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul, And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, Hereafter in that world where all are pure We two may meet before high God, and thou Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know; I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, f Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. Thro...
Page 131 - My own dim life should teach me this, That life shall live for evermore, Else earth is darkness at the core, And dust and ashes all that is; This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty; such as lurks In some wild Poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.

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