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Oxford University Press, 1901

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Página 136 - I heard the voice of Jesus say, I am this dark world's light, Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright. I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my star, my sun ; And in that light of life I'll walk Till travelling days are done.
Página 105 - God ! methinks it were a happy life To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Página 216 - So may the outward shows be least themselves : The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil...
Página 137 - To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated Night, Devoid of sense and motion?
Página 127 - I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes: besides, divers of worship have reported his uprightness of dealing which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that approves his art.
Página 272 - Last came, and last did go The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: 'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold!
Página 56 - IT is the first mild day of March : Each minute sweeter than before, The redbreast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare And grass in the green field.
Página 53 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate.
Página 128 - We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence ; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Página 128 - Wrapt in the curious general'ties of arts ; But a direct and analytic sum Of all the worth and first effects of arts. And for his poesy, 'tis so ramm'd with life, That it shall gather strength of life, with being, And live hereafter more admired than now.

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