The golden spell, and other poems

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Page 104 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Page 154 - GIVE me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage. Blood must be my body's balmer; No other balm will there be given; Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer, Travelleth towards the land of heaven...
Page 74 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Page 58 - Two children in two neighbour villages Playing mad pranks along the heathy leas ; Two strangers meeting at a festival ; Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall ; Two lives bound fast in one with golden ease ; Two graves...
Page 114 - And the river that I sate upon, It made such a noise as it ron, Accordaunt with the birdes armony, Me thought it was the best melody That might ben yheard of any nion.
Page 114 - There as they rested hem all the night, They were so joyfull of the dayes light, They began of May for to done honours. They coud that service all by rote, There was many a lovely note, Some...
Page 36 - IT is the soul that sees; the outward eyes Present the object, but the mind descries; And thence delight, disgust, or cool indiffrence rise: When minds are joyful, then we look around, And what is seen is all on fairy ground; Again they sicken, and on every view Cast their own dull and melancholy hue; Or, if...
Page 74 - Qual ninfa in fonti, in selve mai qual dea chiome d'oro sì fino a l'aura sciolse? quando un cor tante in sé vertuti accolse? benché la somma è di mia morte rea. Per divina bellezza indarno mira, chi gli occhi de costei già mai non vide, come soavemente ella gli gira; non sa come Amor sana e come ancide chi non sa come dolce ella sospira e come dolce parla e dolce ride.
Page 154 - Over the silver mountains, Where spring the nectar fountains. There will I kiss The bowl of bliss; And drink mine everlasting fill Upon every milken hill. My soul will be a-dry before; But after it will thirst no more.
Page 19 - Così trapassa al trapassar d'un giorno de la vita mortale il fiore e '1 verde; né, perché faccia in dietro aprii ritorno, si rinfiora ella mai, né si rinverde. Cogliam la rosa in su '1 mattino adorno di questo dì, che tosto il seren perde; cogliam d'amor la rosa: amiamo or quando esser si puote riamato amando.

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