A. C. SWINBURNE admiration afraid Alfred answered asked aunt Baden Baskervyle Baskervyle's Beatrice Beatrice asked beautiful begged Bertie better brother Captain Fanshawe child Clytemnestra cousin Cynthia daugh daughter dead dear death door drawing-room dress Eaton Square Ethelbert exclaimed eyes face father fear Featherstone feel Fern Bank followed forgive girl hand hansom cab happy heart hope Hugh Hugh's husband Jack kind King's Gift knew Lady Atherling laughed leave lips live look Lord Atherling mamma marriage married mind Miss Sutherland morning mother murmured never Oldham pale papa passed poor Theo pretty Reginald seemed sigh sister smile speak spoke STAR BY STAR stood suppose sure surprise tears tell tender Theo's Theodora thing thought told Trowbridge truth turned voice watched weary wife window wish woman women words young
Page 178 - What flowers grow in my field wherewith to dress thee? My good reverts to ill ; My calmnesses would move thee, My softnesses would prick thee, My bindings up would break thee, My crownings, curse and kill. Alas, I can but love thee ! May GOD bless thee, my beloved, —May GOD bless thee.
Page 315 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.
Page 313 - I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord : even so saith the Spirit ; for they rest from their labours.
Page 48 - Alas, how easily things go wrong ! A sigh too much, or a kiss too long ! And there follows a mist and a weeping rain, And life is never the same again.
Page 296 - With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.
Page 158 - I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow...
Page 27 - The wild flowers who will stoop to number ? A few can touch the magic string, And noisy fame is proud to win them ; Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them ! Nay, grieve not for the dead alone, Whose song has told their hearts...
Page 1 - Took the largest part of me: For this losing is true dying; This is lordly man's down-lying, This his slow but sure reclining, Star by star his world resigning.
Page 289 - No later light has lightened up my heaven No second morn has ever shone for me; All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.