Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.
Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.
For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.
Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.
I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
You may tell me that my hand and foot are only imaginary symbols of my existence. I could believe you, but you never, never can convince me that the I is not an eternal reality, and that the spiritual is not the true and real part of me.
Man is the hunter; women are the game; those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins; they love us for it, and we ride them down.
How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
Here at the quiet limit of the world.
That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.
All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune; Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.
Dark house, by which once more I stand Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp'd no more - Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door. He is not here; but far away The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.
Love will conquer at the last.
The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.
Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time.
The mighty hopes that make us men.
Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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