Poems: In Two Volumes, àÅèÁ·Õè 1

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Ticknor and Fields, 1863

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˹éÒ 362 - The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
˹éÒ 364 - So careful of the type ?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, " A thousand types are gone : I care for nothing, all shall go. "Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
˹éÒ 44 - THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above ; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love. He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro
˹éÒ 474 - There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen ! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and goBut in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream, and hold it true ; For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, I cannot think the thing farewell.
˹éÒ 77 - Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right The leaves upon her falling light Thro...
˹éÒ 73 - To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls And the red cloaks of market-girls Pass onward from Shalott.
˹éÒ 384 - So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to be, How know I what had need of thee, For thou wert strong as thou wert true...
˹éÒ 281 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just.
˹éÒ 193 - em away. Old year, you must not go; So long as you have been with us, Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go.
˹éÒ 71 - Camelot ; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro...

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