Forward from Babylon

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Moffat, Yard, 1921 - 307 pages

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Page 100 - I dare not guess; but in this life Of error, ignorance, and strife. Where nothing is, but all things seem. And we the shadows of the dream, It is a modest creed, and yet Pleasant if one considers it, To own that death itself must be. Like all the rest, a mockery. That garden sweet, that lady fair, And all sweet shapes and odours there. In truth have never passed away: Tis we, 'tis ours, are changed; not they. For love, and beauty, and delight, There is no death nor change; their might Exceeds our...
Page 100 - Then the pied wind-flowers and the tulip tall, And narcissi, the fairest among them all, Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess, Till they die of their own dear loveliness...
Page 109 - Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number, Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you — Ye are many — they are few.
Page 171 - By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps on the willows in the midst thereof.
Page 30 - O' drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea? Was never salmon yet that shone so fair, Among the stakes on Dee.' They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The cruel, crawling foam, The cruel, hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea ; But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands o
Page 209 - OUT of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Page 182 - Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the...
Page 183 - THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring ; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
Page 209 - It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.
Page 190 - I chose to go because, while I hesitated, loving and comradely hands beckoned to me from China and distant memories of ages past urged me to go. The long perspective of history rose up before me, the agonies and triumphs of India and China, and the troubles of today "folded their tents like the Arabs and as silently stole away.

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