Post Liminium: Essays and Critical PapersE. Mathews, 1911 - 307 páginas |
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Página 175 - ... bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my...
Página 61 - Lear. My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy : how dost, my boy ? art cold ? I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.
Página 276 - Age, and are now the friendships only of children. Very few can boast of hearts which they dare lay open to themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, they do not shun a distinct and continued view ; and, certainly, what we hide from ourselves we do not show to our friends.
Página 29 - For the essence of humanism is that one belief of which he seems never to have doubted, that nothing which has ever interested living men and women can wholly lose its vitality — no language they have spoken nor oracle by which they have hushed their voices, no dream which has once been entertained by actual human minds, nothing about which they have ever been passionate or expended time and zeal, (pp.
Página 276 - It has been so long said as to be commonly believed that the true characters of men may be found in their letters, and that he who writes to his friend lays his heart open before him. But the truth is that such were the simple friendships of the Golden Age, and are now the friendships only of children.
Página 255 - O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee, Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty. Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass ; Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass.
Página 121 - It is interpenetrated with the dignity and charm, the mild, bright, classical grace of form and treatment that Renan himself so loved ; and it fulfils to the uttermost the delicate and difficult achievement it sets out to accomplish.
Página 255 - It was written down by a hand that waited for the heart's prompting; it is the chronicle of a solitary, hidden anguish, struggle, trust, and triumph, not written on velvet cushions to teach endurance to those who are treading with bleeding feet on the stones. And so it remains to all time a lasting record of human needs and human consolations...
Página 111 - And that he did so may appear in many parts of his book of Sacred Poems.; especially in that which, he calls The Odour. In which he seems to rejoice in the thoughts of that word Jesus, and say, that the adding these words, my master, to it, and the often repetition of them, seemed to perfume his mind, and leave an oriental fragrancy in his very breath. And for his unforced choice to serve at God's altar, he seems in another place of his poems, The Pearl...
Página 70 - No! those days are gone away, And their hours are old and gray, And their minutes buried all Under the down-trodden pall Of the leaves of many years: Many times have winter's shears, Frozen North, and chilling East, Sounded tempests to the feast Of the forest's whispering fleeces, Since men knew nor rent nor leases.