Poems of Richard Crashaw

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Routledge, 1887 - 85 pages
 

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Page 46 - From this to that, then quick returning skips And snatches this again, and pauses there. She measures every measure, everywhere Meets art with art ; sometimes, as if in doubt, Not perfect yet, and fearing to be out, Trails her plain ditty in one long-spun note, Through the sleek passage of her open throat, A clear unwrinkled song...
Page 35 - O, thou undaunted daughter of desires! By all thy dower of lights and fires, By all the eagle in thee, all the dove, By all thy lives and deaths of love, By thy large draughts of intellectual day, And by thy thirsts of love more large than they; By all thy...
Page 30 - Scarce has she learnt to lisp the name Of martyr; yet she thinks it shame Life should so long play with that breath Which spent can buy so brave a death.
Page 6 - Poor World, said I, what wilt thou do To entertain this starry Stranger? Is this the best thou canst bestow ? A cold, and not too cleanly, manger? Contend, the powers of heaven and earth.
Page 40 - A certain man had two sons : and the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.
Page 47 - Wing'd with their own wild echoes, prattling fly. She opes the flood-gate, and lets loose a tide Of streaming sweetness, which in state doth ride On the...
Page 53 - From a fore-spent night of sorrow. Days, that in spite Of darkness, by the light Of a clear mind are day all night. Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers' play, Yet long by th' absence of the day. Life, that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes say 'Welcome, friend!
Page 5 - His face ; In spite of darkness it was day. It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise Not from the east, but from Thine eyes.
Page 35 - Heaven thou hast in Him (Fair sister of the seraphim !) By all of Him we have in thee ; Leave nothing of myself in me. Let me so read thy life, that I Unto all life of mine may die.
Page 33 - Shall all at last die into one, And melt thy soul's sweet mansion ; Like a soft lump of incense, hasted By too hot a fire, and wasted Into perfuming clouds, so fast Shalt thou exhale to...

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