High Tide: Songs of Joy and Vision Form the Present-day Poets of America and Great Britain

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Houghton Mifflin, 1916 - 205 pages
 

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Page 197 - Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
Page 98 - A fire-mist and a planet, — A crystal and a cell, — A jelly-fish and a saurian, And caves where the cave-men dwell ; Then a sense of law and beauty, And a face turned from the clod, — Some call it Evolution, And others call it God.
Page 66 - As where some flower lay withering on the ground. And then he flew as far as eye could see, And then on tremulous wing came back to me. I thought of questions that have no reply, And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; But he turned first, and led my eye to look At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
Page 183 - And in the sweetest passage of a song. Oh, Just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright; But it must never, never come in sight; I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
Page 49 - THERE is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others Comes back into our own.
Page 98 - A haze on the far horizon — The infinite, tender sky — The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high — And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod — Some of us call it autumn, And others call it God.
Page 112 - LET me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way.
Page 139 - There is ever a song -somewhere, my dear. Be the skies above or dark or fair; There is ever a song that our hearts may hear — There is ever a song somewhere, my dear — There is ever a song somewhere!
Page 114 - FATHER GILLIGAN THE old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day; For half his flock were in their beds, Or under green sods lay. Once, while he nodded on a chair, At the moth-hour of eve, Another poor man sent for him, And he began to grieve. "I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace, For people die and die" ; And after cried he, "God forgive! My body spake, not I...
Page 181 - Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might. Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles. And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.

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