Songs Before Sunrise

Ön Kapak
Thomas B. Mosher, 1901 - 285 sayfa
 

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Popüler pasajlar

Sayfa 80 - A creed is a rod, And a crown is of night; But this thing is God, To be man with thy might, To grow straight in the strength of thy spirit, and live out thy life as the light.
Sayfa 77 - I am that which began; Out of me the years roll; Out of me God and man; I am equal and Whole; God changes, and man, and the form of them bodily; I am the soul.
Sayfa 87 - Grown grey from his fear; And his hour taketh hold on him stricken, the last of his infinite year. Thought made him and breaks him, Truth slays and forgives; But to you, as time takes him, This new thing it gives, Even love, the beloved Republic, that feeds upon freedom and lives. For truth only is living, Truth only is whole, And the love of his giving Man's polestar and pole ; Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body, and seed of my soul. One birth of my bosom; One beam of mine eye; One topmost...
Sayfa 85 - O my sons, O too dutiful Toward Gods not of me, Was not I enough beautiful ? Was it hard to be free ? For behold, I am with you, am in you and of you ; look forth now and see.
Sayfa 158 - The kings of the earth stood up, and the rulers took counsel together against the Lord and against his anointed.
Sayfa 82 - Ye would know not the sun overshining the shadows and stars overpast. 1 that saw where ye trod The dim paths of the night Set the shadow called God In your skies to give light ; But the morning of manhood is risen, and the shadowless soul is in sight. The tree many-rooted That swells to the sky . With frondage red-fruited, The life-tree am I ; In the buds of your lives is the sap of my leaves : ye shall live and not die.
Sayfa 81 - Be the ways of thy giving As mine were to thee ; The free life of thy living, Be the gift of it free; Not as servant to lord, nor as master to slave, shalt thou give thee to me.
Sayfa 253 - Ask nothing more of me, sweet; All I can give you I give. Heart of my heart, were it more, More would be laid at your feet...
Sayfa 165 - I am the trumpet at thy lips, thy clarion Full of thy cry, sonorous with thy breath ; The graves of souls born worms and creeds grown carrion Thy blast of judgment fills with fires of death. Thou art the player whose organ-keys are thunders, And I beneath thy foot the pedal prest ; Thou art the ray whereat the rent night sunders, And I the cloudlet borne upon thy breast.
Sayfa 56 - Turn ye, whose anguish oppressing you Crushes, asleep and awake, For the wrong which is wrought as of yore, That Italia may give of her store, Having these things to give and no more, Only her hands on you, blessing you, Only a pang for her sake : Only her bosom to die on, Only her heart for a home, And a name with her children to be From Calabrian to Adrian sea Famous in cities made free, That ring to the roar of the lion Proclaiming republican Rome.

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