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answer begin believe better born breath cheat Christ clay comes dead death doubt earth eyes face fact fall fancy fear feel fire flesh fool gain give gold gone grow hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hold hope Judge keep laugh least leave lies light lips live look lost man's mean mind mouth nature never o'er once pain pass plain play poor praise prove rest round Sludge smile soul speak spirit stand stars stop suppose sure talk tell thee There's things thou thought took touch tricks true truth turn wait watch what's whole wonder worth write youth
Page 162 - 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 83 - But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that can, . Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo, they are? And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Page 97 - Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped; All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.
Page 96 - Not on the vulgar mass Called " work," must sentence pass, Things done, that took the eye and had the price; O'er which, from level stand, The low world laid its hand, Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice...
Page 89 - 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 85 - Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear, Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe: But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear; The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.
Page 91 - Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
Page 91 - For thence— a paradox Which comforts while it mocks— Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: What I aspired to be, And was not, comforts me; A brute I might have been, but would not sink i