What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
Can we love but on condition that the thing we love must die?
If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe.
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture!
Believeth with the life, the pain shall stop.
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
We find great things are made of little things, And little things go lessening till at last Comes God behind them.
'Tis only when they spring to Heaven that angels reveal themselves to you.
No work begun shall ever pause for death.
Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beast's; God is, they are, Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be.
One wise man's verdict outweighs all the fools'.
Therefore I summon age / To grant youth's heritage.
In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.
Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!
Truth that peeps Over the glass's edge when dinner's done.
A lion may die of an ass's kick.
Pippa's Song The year's at the spring The day's at the morn Morning's at seven, The Hill side's dew-pearled The lark's on the wing The snail's on the thorn God's in his heaven- All's right with the world
Out of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it, -so you ignore, So you make perfect the present, condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense.
Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?
I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds All the world's loves in its unworldliness.
Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): "Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'"
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