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" Our isles are just at hand," they cried, " Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping. Our temple-gates are opened wide, Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping For these majestic forms " — they cried. Oh, then we awoke with sudden start From our deep dream,... "
The Poetical Works of Robert Browning: Paracelsus. Strafford - Página 132
por Robert Browning - 1888
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Paracelsus, Tema 366

Robert Browning - 1835 - 234 páginas
...too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, Which had received our precious freight : Yet we call'd out — " Depart ! " Our gifts, once given, must here...done ; we have no heart " To mar our work," we cried. Fest. In truth ? Par. Nay, wait : all this in tracings faint On rugged stones, strewn here and there,...
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Fraser's Magazine, Volumen13

1836 - 808 páginas
...temple-gates are opened wide, Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping For these majestic forms,' they cried. Then we awoke with sudden start From our deep dream,...done ; we have no heart To mar our work,' we cried." This ballad Paracelsus subsequently calls " The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first...
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Poems: Paracelsus

Robert Browning - 1850 - 406 páginas
...start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight : Yet we called out — " Depart...work is done ; we have no heart " To mar our work, though vain " — we cried. Fest. In truth ? Par. Nay, wait : all this in tracings faint May still...
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Thalatta: A Book for the Sea-side

Samuel Longfellow - 1853 - 228 páginas
...start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight : Yet we called out — ' Depart...done ; we have no heart To mar our work,' we cried. ROBERT BROWNING. TO MY COMPANIONS. YE heavy-hearted mariners Who sail this shore, Ye patient, ye who...
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Thalatta: A Book for the Sea-side

Samuel Longfellow - 1853 - 228 páginas
...start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight : Yet we called out — ' Depart...done ; we have no heart To mar our work,' we cried. ROBERT BROWNING. TO MY COMPANIONS. YE heavy-hearted mariners Who sail this shore, Ye patient, ye who...
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The Christian Remembrancer, Volumen28

1854 - 532 páginas
...too late How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight: Yet we call'd out, " Depart! Our gifts, once given, must here abide: Our work is done ; we hate no heart To mar our work, though vaiti"—we cried.'' In the first edition it was stated as probable...
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Poems

Robert Browning - 1863 - 394 páginas
...start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight: Yet we called out—" Depart!...work is done; we have no heart " To mar our work, though vain "—we cried. Fest. In truth ? Par. Nay, wait: all this in tracings faint May still be...
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American Presbyterian and Theological Review, Volumen3;Volumen9

Henry Boynton Smith, James Manning Sherwood - 1865 - 668 páginas
...our deep dream ; we knew too late How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we'd flun^ our jirecious freight ; Yet we called out — ' Depart ! Our gifts,...Our work is done ; we have no heart To mar our work, though vain— we cried.' "* Art. HI.— MISSIONARY INTERFERENCE AT THE HAWAIIAN I8LANDS.f MR. MANLY...
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Lyrics of life [selected poems].

Robert Browning - 1866 - 120 páginas
...start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had flung our precious freight : Yet we called out — "Depart...Our work is done ; we have no heart To mar our work, though vain," — we cried. "ALL SERVICE RANKS THE SAME WITH GOD." ALL service ranks the same with...
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The earthward pilgrimage

Moncure Daniel Conway - 1870 - 436 páginas
...They see now how desolate is the rock which has received their precious freight, but they say, — Depart! Our gifts, once given, must here abide. Our work is done ; we have no heart To mar our work. Cast, after its weary voyage over dark seas of misgiving and doubt, on this desolate shore of dogma,...
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