Sing, riding's a joy! For me I ride.

The last Ride together. vii.

When the liquor's out, why clink the cannikin?

The Flight of the Duchess. xvi.

That low man seeks a little thing to do,

Sees it and does it;

This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
Dies ere he knows it.

That low man goes on adding one to one,

His hundred's soon hit;

This high man, aiming at a million,

Misses an unit.

That has the world here—should he need the next,

Let the world mind him!

This throws himself on God, and unperplexed

Seeking shall find him.

A Grammarian's Funeral.

Ibid.

Lofty designs must close in like effects.

I hear you reproach, "But delay was best,

For their end was a crime." Oh, a crime will do
As well, I reply, to serve for a test

As a virtue golden through and through,
Sufficient to vindicate itself

And prove its worth at a moment's view!

Let a man contend to the uttermost

For his life's set prize, be it what it will!
The counter our lovers staked was lost
As surely as if it were lawful coin;
And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost
Is the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin,
Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.

The Statue and the Bust.

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years,

Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came. xxxiii.

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat.

The Lost Leader. i.

We shall march prospering,

not thro' his presence;

Songs may inspirit us, not from his lyre;

Deeds will be done, while he boasts his quiescence,

Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.

The Lost Leader. ii.

They are perfect; how else?- they shall never change:

We are faulty; why not?

we have time in store.

Old Pictures in Florence. xvi.

What's come to perfection perishes.

Things learned on earth we shall practise in heaven;
Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes.

xvii.

De Gustibus. ii.

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture.

Home-Thoughts from Abroad. ii.

God made all the creatures, and gave them our love and

our fear,

To give sign we and they are his children, one family

here.

Saul. vi.

How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to

employ

All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

ix.

'Tis not what man does which exalts him, but what man would do.

O woman-country!1 wooed not wed,
Loved all the more by earth's male-lands,
Laid to their hearts instead.

xviii.

By the Fireside.

vi.

1 Italy.

That great brow

And the spirit-small hand propping it.

By the Fireside. xxiii.

If two lives join, there is oft a scar.

They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.

Only I discern

Infinite passion, and the pain

xlvi.

of finite hearts that yearn. Two in the Campagna. xii.

Round and round, like a dance of snow
In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go
Floating the women faded for ages,
Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages.

How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can.

Women and Roses.

And absorbed in the new life he leads,
He recks not, he heeds

Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike

On his senses alike,

And are lost in the solemn and strange

Surprise of the change.

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
And did he stop and speak to you,
And did you speak to him again?

How strange it seems, and new!

After.

Memorabilia. i.

He who did well in war just earns the right
To begin doing well in peace.

Luria. Act ii.

And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift,
Is quick and transient, - comes, and lo! is gone,
While Northern thought is slow and durable.

Act v.

A people is but the attempt of many
To rise to the completer life of one;

And those who live as models for the mass
Are singly of more value than they all.

Ibid.

I count life just a stuff

To try the soul's strength on.

Was there nought better than to enjoy ?

In a Balcony.

No feat which, done, would make time break,
And let us pent-up creatures through

Into eternity, our due?

No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?

Dis Aliter Visum; or, Le Byron de nos Jours. There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before;

The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good

more;

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect Abt Vogler. ix.

round.

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!

What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me.

Rabbi Ben Ezra.

Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure.

For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,
And hope and fear (believe the aged friend),
Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,-
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is.

Ibid.

Ibid.

A Death in the Desert.

The body sprang

At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul, — no!

Ibid.

What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up,
And be discharged, and straight wound up anew?
No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets:
May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.

Ibid.

For I say this is death and the sole death,
When a man's loss comes to him from his gain,
Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance,
And lack of love from love made manifest.

A Death in the Desert.

Progress, man's distinctive mark alone,
Not God's, and not the beasts: God is, they are;
Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.

The ultimate, angels' law,

Indulging every instinct of the soul
There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!

How sad and bad and mad it was!

But then, how it was sweet!

Ibid.

Ibid.

Confessions. ix.

So may a glory from defect arise. Deaf and Dumb.
This could but have happened once,
And we missed it, lost it forever.

Fear death?

Youth and Art. xvii.

-to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face.

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.

It's wiser being good than bad;
It's safer being meek than fierce;

It's fitter being sane than mad.

Prospice.

My own hope is, a sun will pierce
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched;
That after Last returns the First,
Though a wide compass round be fetched;
That what began best can't end worst,
Nor what God blessed once prove accurst.
Apparent Failure. vii.

In the great right of an excessive wrong.

The Ring and the Book. The other Half-Rome. Line 1055.