Selections from the Poetical Works of Robert Browning: From the Sixth London Edition (first and Second Series)

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Crowell, 1886 - 298 pages

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Page 25 - Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!
Page 24 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ;
Page 25 - Aix" — for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
Page 45 - THE gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed i
Page 121 - And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair. And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine, And the...
Page 97 - And bade me creep past. No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old. Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
Page 62 - And after April, when May follows And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That 's the wise thrush : he sings each song twice over Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture...
Page 2 - Her mantle laps Over my lady's wrist too much,' or 'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat:' such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 20 For calling up that spot of joy.
Page 102 - Wilt thou trust death or not?' He answered 'Yes: 'Hence with life's pale lure!' That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it: This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it.
Page 24 - The year's at the spring And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven — All's right with the world!

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