A Manual of Mystic Verse: Being a Choice of Meditative and Mystic Poems

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E.P. Dutton, 1917 - English poetry - 295 pages

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Page 176 - GROW old along with me ! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made : Our times are in His hand Who saith ' A whole I planned, Youth shows but half ; trust God : see all, nor be afraid...
Page 142 - Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast : Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, " Fallings from us, vanishings ; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised...
Page 151 - The hills Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Page 166 - SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! 10 And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho...
Page 141 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find...
Page 255 - 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 58 - I cannot look on thee. Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I \ Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them : let my shame Go where it doth deserve.
Page 137 - The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Page 205 - Oh, dreadful is the check — intense the agony — When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see; When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again, The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.
Page 93 - My soul, there is a country Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skilful in the wars; There above noise, and danger Sweet peace sits crowned with smiles, And one born in a manger Commands the beauteous files; He is thy gracious friend, And (O, my Soul, awake!) Did in pure love descend To die here for thy sake. If thou canst get but thither, There grows the flower of peace, The rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress, and thy ease; Leave then thy foolish ranges, For none can thee secure,...

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