Smiling the boy fell dead.
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower.
And let them pass, as they will too soon, With the bean-flowers' boon, And the blackbird's tune, And May, and June!
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm.
There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
Tis Man's to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
One and all We lend an ear-nay, Science takes thereto- Encourages the meanest who has racked Nature until he gains from her some fact, To state what truth is from his point of view, Mere pin-point though it be: since many such Conduce to make a whole, she bids our friend Come forward unabashed and haply lend His little life-experience to our much Of modern knowledge.
All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.
If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
The trouble that most of us find with the modern matched sets of clubs is that they don't really seem to know any more about the game than the old ones did.
Once more on my adventure brave and new.
Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us: when afar You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star!
The body sprang At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,-no!
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!
For the preacher's merit or demerit, It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessel, holding treasure, But the main thing is, does it hold good measure Heaven soon sets right all other matters!
'Tis well averred, A scientific faith's absurd.
I have no little insight into the feelings of furniture, and treat books and prints with a reasonable consideration. How some people use their pictures, for instance, is a mystery to me; very revolting all the same--portraits obliged to face each other for ever--prints put together in portfolios.
All service is the same with God.
When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?
But little do or can the best of us: That little is achieved through Liberty.
The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
Have you found your life distasteful? My life did, and does, smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again.
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