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الصفحة 220 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
الصفحة 246 - Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains ; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.
الصفحة 86 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death, And all the sad variety of pain.
الصفحة 204 - Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light...
الصفحة 178 - And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing, Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part Of the self-same, universal being, Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay...
الصفحة 220 - The tree will wither long before it fall; The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn; The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall In massy hoariness; the...
الصفحة 202 - In some fair body thus th' informing soul With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole ; Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains, Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains. Some, to whom Heaven in wit has been profuse, Want as much more to turn it to its use ; For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
الصفحة 152 - Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings, but himself, That hideous sight, a naked human heart.
الصفحة 178 - Flaunting gaily in the golden light ; Large desires, with most uncertain issues, Tender wishes, blossoming at night ! These in flowers and men are more than seeming Workings are they of the self-same powers, Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming, Seeth in himself, and in the flowers.

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