Against wind and tide, by Holme Lee

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Page 5 - The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Page 101 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb, By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
Page 7 - I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Page 119 - There is a garden in her face, Where roses and white lilies grow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow. There cherries grow which none may buy Till 'Cherry-ripe
Page 383 - Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.
Page 288 - Let our unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race.
Page 325 - O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a...
Page 188 - MAIDEN ! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run ! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet...
Page 173 - Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living present! Heart within, and GOD o'erhead!
Page 336 - Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.

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