Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold
Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Better not be at all than not be noble.
For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.
The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.
That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
And so the Word had breath, and wrought With human hands the creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds, More strong than all poetic thoughts; Which he may read that binds the sheaf, Or builds the house, or digs the grave, And those wild eyes that watch the waves In roarings round the coral reef.
Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?
Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.
The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott
Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.
But the churchmen fain would kill their church, As the churches have kill'd their Christ.
What! I should call on that Infinite Love that has served us so well? Infinite cruelty rather, that made everlasting hell, Made us, foreknew us, foredoom'd us, and does what he will with his own; Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan.
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.
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