For love reflects the thing beloved.
Wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower.
Men at most differ as Heaven and Earth, but women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell.
O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
The quiet sense of something lost
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.
Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith; She reels not at the storm of warring words; She brightens at the clash of "Yes" and "No"; She sees the best that glimmers through the worst; She feels the sun is hid for the night; She spies the summer through the winter bud; She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls; She hears the lark within the songless egg; She finds the fountain where they wailed "Mirage!"
There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.
There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
God and Nature met in light.
The greater person is one of courtesy.
As the husband is, the wife is.
For always roaming with a hungry heart.
A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.
A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.
God's finger touched him, and he slept.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
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