Ticknor and Fields, 1863
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Página 21 - I go to prove my soul ! I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive ! what time, what circuit first, I ask not : but unless God send his hail Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive : He guides me and the bird. In his good time ! Mich.
Página 27 - There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fulness ; and around Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception — which is truth ; A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Blinds it, and makes all error : and, " to know" Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without.
Página 27 - Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fulness...
Página 148 - ... in man's self arise August anticipations, symbols, types Of a dim splendour ever on before In that eternal circle life pursues. For men begin to pass their nature's bound, And find new hopes and cares which fast supplant Their proper joys and griefs ; they grow too great For narrow creeds of right and wrong, which fade Before the unmeasured thirst for good : while peace Rises within them ever more and more. Such men are even now upon the earth, Serene amid the half-formed creatures round Who...
Página 165 - DAY! Faster and more fast, O'er night's brim, day boils at last : Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim Where spurting and suppressed it lay. For not a froth-flake touched the rim Of yonder gap in the solid gray Of the eastern cloud, an hour away ; But forth one wavelet, then another, curled, Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed...
Página 112 - ... perfume, music too: So the stars wheeled round, and the darkness past, And at morn we started beside the mast, And still each ship was sailing fast. Now, one morn, land appeared — a speck Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky: 'Avoid it...
Página 144 - Like chrysalids impatient for the air, The shining dorrs are busy, beetles run Along the furrows, ants make their ado ; Above, birds fly in merry flocks, the lark Soars up and up, shivering for very joy ; Afar the ocean sleeps ; white fishing-gulls Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe Of nested limpets ; savage creatures seek Their loves in wood and plain — and God renews His ancient rapture.
Página 48 - Beneath the tent-tree by the wayside well : And this in language as the need should be, Now poured at once forth in a burning flow, Now piled up in a grand array of words. This done, to perfect and consummate all, Even as a luminous haze links star to star, I would supply all chasms with music, breathing Mysterious motions of the soul, no way To be defined save in strange melodies.
Página 172 - All service ranks the same with God: If now, as formerly he trod Paradise, his presence fills Our earth, each only as God wills Can work— God's puppets, best and worst, Are we; there is no last nor first. Say not 'a small event!' Why 'small'? Costs it more pain that this, ye call A 'great event,

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