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Page 314 - Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore Alone upon the threshold of my door Of individual life, I shall command The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand Serenely in the sunshine as before, Without the sense of that which I forbore — Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine With pulses that beat double.
Page 190 - It is a good and soothfast saw;' Half-roasted never will be raw; No dough is dried once more to meal No crock new-shapen by the wheel; You can't turn curds to milk again, Nor Now, by wishing, back to Then; And having tasted stolen honey, You can't buy innocence for money.
Page 3 - But everywhere the bushy hedgerows wasted the land with their straggling beauty, shrouded the grassy borders of the pastures with catkined hazels, and tossed their long blackberry branches on the corn-fields. Perhaps they were white with May, or starred with pale pink dogroses; perhaps the urchins were already nutting amongst them, or gathering the plenteous crabs. It was worth the journey only to see those hedgerows, the liberal homes of unmarketable beauty...
Page 63 - My father was ignorant," said Felix, bluntly. "He knew neither the complication of the human system, nor the way in which drugs counteract each other. Ignorance is not so damnable as humbug, but when it prescribes pills it may happen to do more harm.
Page 10 - ... beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer — committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear. The poets have told us of a dolorous enchanted forest in the under world. The thorn-bushes there, and the thick-barked stems, have human histories hidden in them; the power of...
Page 68 - For though I would desire to glory, I shall not be a fool : for I will say the truth: but now I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth me to be, or that he heareth of me.
Page 438 - It is only in that freshness of our time that the choice is possible which gives unity to life, and makes the memory a temple where all relics and all votive offerings, all worship and all grateful joy, are an unbroken history sanctified by one religion.
Page 5 - In these midland districts the traveller passed rapidly from one phase of English life to another ; after looking down on a village dingy with coal-dust, noisy with the shaking of looms, he might 1823.] Coaching Days. 7 skirt a parish all of fields, high hedges, and deep-rutted lanes...