My love she's but a lassie, by the author of 'Queenie'.

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Page 195 - HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath; Who envies none that chance doth raise...
Page 12 - thus to prefer dark night Before true light! To live in grots and caves, and hate the day Because it shows the way, — The way which, from this dead and dark abode, Leads up to God ; A way where you might tread the sun and be More bright than he !" But, as I did their madness so discuss, One whispered thus, "This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide, But for his Bride.
Page 44 - Never any more, While I live, Need I hope to see his face As before. Once his love grown chill, Mine may strive : Bitterly we re-embrace, Single still. n. Was it something said, Something done, Vexed him ? was it touch of hand, Turn of head ? Strange ! that very way Love begun : I as little understand Love's decay.
Page 233 - The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky, — All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill ; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep ! The river glideth at its own sweet will : Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ; And all that mighty heart is lying still...
Page 87 - Crabbed age and youth cannot live together Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare; Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; O, my love, my love is young! Age, I do defy thee...
Page 66 - Dirge If thou wilt ease thine heart Of love and all its smart, Then sleep, dear, sleep; And not a sorrow Hang any tear on your eyelashes; 5 Lie still and deep, Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes The rim o' th' sun to-morrow, In eastern sky.
Page 25 - Whether thralled or exiled ; Whether poor or rich thou be ; Whether praised or reviled, Not a rush it is to thee. This nor that thy rest doth win thee, But the mind which is within thee.
Page 240 - For anger is like the waves of a troubled sea, when it is corrected with a soft reply, as with a little strand, it retires and leaves nothing behind it but froth and shells, no permanent mischief.

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