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arms Asgard Balder bear blood born breast breath bright bring clear cold comes dark dead death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair father fear feel fields fire gaze give gloom Gods gone grave green grey grow hand hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hermod hills hope hour Iseult keep King knew leave light live lonely look meet mind morn Nature never night NOTE o'er once pain pale pass past Persian plain rest round Rustum sand seek shining side sits sleep smile Sohrab soul spake speak spirit spring stand stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought Tristram voice wandering waste waves weep wind wood young youth
Page 164 - I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the...
Page 322 - O strong soul, by what shore Tarriest thou now? For that force, Surely, has not been left vain! Somewhere, surely, afar, In the sounding labour-house vast Of being, is practised that strength, Zealous, beneficent, firm!
Page 80 - But let us speak no more of this ! I find My father ; let me feel that I have found ! Come, sit beside me on this sand, and take My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks, And wash them with thy tears, and say : My son!
Page 212 - The sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits;— on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Page 294 - And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time's here In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames...
Page 303 - Yet, Thyrsis, let me give my grief its hour In the old haunt, and find our tree-topp'd hill! Who, if not I, for questing here hath power? I know the wood which hides the daffodil...
Page 291 - And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves, Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use — • Here will I sit and wait, While to my ear from uplands far away The bleating of the folded flocks is borne, With distant cries of reapers in the corn — All the live murmur of a summer's day.
Page 300 - Once pass'd I blindfold here, at any hour; Now seldom come I, since I came with him. That single elm-tree bright Against the west — I miss it ! is it gone ? We prized it dearly; while it stood, we said, Our friend, the Gipsy-Scholar, was not dead; While the tree lived, he in these fields lived on.
Page 253 - Where the moon-silver'd inlets Send far their light voice Up the still vale of Thisbe, O speed, and rejoice ! On the sward at the cliff-top Lie strewn the white flocks, On the cliff-side the pigeons Roost deep in the rocks. In the moonlight the shepherds, Soft lull'd by the rills, Lie wrapt in their blankets Asleep on the hills.