The Poetical Works of Robert Browning, Volumen1

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Smith, Elder and Company, 1882 - 1184 páginas
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Página 71 - 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 ; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception— which is truth.
Página 65 - 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 ! Michal.
Página 154 - Over the sea our galleys went, With cleaving prows in order brave, To a speeding wind and a bounding wave, A gallant armament: Each bark built out of a forest-tree, Left leafy and rough as first it grew, And nailed all over the gaping sides, Within and without, with black bull-hides, Seethed in fat and suppled in flame, To bear the playful billows...
Página 156 - check The shout, restrain the eager eye!" But the heaving sea was black behind For many a night and many a day, And land, though but a rock, drew nigh; So, we broke the cedar pales away, Let the purple awning flap in the wind, And a statue bright was on every deck!
Página 13 - I am made up of an intensest life, Of a most clear idea of consciousness Of self, distinct from all its qualities, From all affections, passions, feelings, powers ; And thus far it exists, if tracked in all : But linked, in me, to self-supremacy, Existing as a centre to all things, Most potent to create and rule and call Upon all things to minister to it...
Página 196 - If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time ; I press God's lamp Close to my breast ; its splendor, soon or late, Will pierce the gloom : I shall emerge one day.
Página 145 - Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud Which breaks to dust when once unrolled...
Página 98 - Yes ; I see now. God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.
Página 187 - I knew, I felt, (perception unexpressed, Uncomprehended by our narrow thought, But somehow felt and known in every shift And change in the spirit, — nay, in every pore Of the body, even,) —what God is, what we are, What life is — how God tastes an infinite joy In infinite ways — one everlasting bliss, From whom all being emanates, all power Proceeds...
Página 155 - To bear the playful billows' game : So, each good ship was rude to see, Rude and bare to the outward view, But each upbore a stately tent I Where cedar pales in scented row Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine, And an awning drooped the mast below, In fold on fold of the purple fine, That neither noontide nor starshine Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad, Might pierce the regal tenement. When the sun dawned...

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