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Surely the golden hours are turning gray And dance no more, and vainly strive to run: I see their white locks streaming in the wind— Each face is haggard as it looks at me, Slow turning in the constan
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Surely the golden hours are turning gray And dance no more, and vainly strive to run: I see their white locks streaming in the wind— Each face is haggard as it looks at me, Slow turning in the constan
“Le cœur se sature d’amour comme d’un sel divin qui le conserve; de là l’incorruptible adhérence de ceux qui se sont ai…
“Then went the jury out whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Head…
“Though it be songe of old and yonge, That I sholde be to blame, Theyrs be the charge, that spoke so large In h…
“And now good-morrow to our waking souls Which watch not one another out of fear; For love all love of other sights con…
“My grief lies onward and my joy behind.” —SHAKESPEARE: Sonnets . Exiles notoriously feed much on hopes, and are unlik…
Du Erde warst auch diese Nacht beständig, Und athmest neu erquickt zu meinen Füssen, Beginnest schon mit Lust mich zu u…
Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead’s most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upo…
“Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended their talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough, that was in the …
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