The Pilgrims' Way: A Little Scrip of Good Counsel for Travellers

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Dutton, 1907 - 329 pages
 

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Page 238 - Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper ? the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from the sword.
Page 152 - For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. — I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, 80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 236 - Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, That abundance of waters may cover thee? Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, And say unto thee, Here we are?
Page 30 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all.
Page 88 - I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet ! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Page 29 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Page 123 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Page 86 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Page 184 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

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