 Through the dim struggling crowd and weary strife, Brings kindred spirits nigh whom we would pray Might live with us, and by our death-bed stay. Do these, our chosen ones, sink down at last Into the common grave of visions past? Ah ! there are few men...  Edith Sydney. A Tale - Page 97by Frances Mary Oxenham - 1868 - 381 pagesFull view - About this book
 | English literature - 1845 - 606 pages
...lines — Few have a dream which do not dream still. Few fountains that once play'd will cease to flow. When they whose touch evoked them at their will, Sit there no more, and I my dreams fulfil, When to high heaven my tongue still nightly bears, Old names like broken... | |
 | Frederick William Faber - Christian poetry - 1840 - 408 pages
...death-bed stay, Do these, our chosen ones, sink down at last Into the common grave of visions past ? Ah ! there are few men in the world can say They had a...Few fountains in the heart which cease to play, When those whose touch evoked them at their will Sit there no more : and I my dreams fulfil When to high... | |
 | M. G. D. - 1890 - 32 pages
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 | Sir Mountstuart Elphinstone Grant Duff - English poetry - 1902 - 598 pages
...deathbed stay. Do these, our chosen ones, sink down at last Into the common grave of visions past? Ah ! there are few men in the world can say They had a...Few fountains in the heart which cease to play, When those whose touch evoked them at their will Sit there no more : and I my dreams fulfil When to high... | |
 | Sir Mountstuart Elphinstone Grant Duff - English poetry - 1904 - 416 pages
...deathbed stay. Do these, our chosen ones, sink down at last Into the common grave of visions past ? Ah ! there are few men in the world can say They had a...Few fountains in the heart which cease to play, When those whose touch evoked them at their will Sit there no more : and I my dreams fulfil When to high... | |
 | 1845 - 604 pages
...lines — Few have a dream which do not dream still. Few fountains that once play'd will cease to flow, When they whose touch evoked them at their will, Sit there no more, and I my dreams fulfil, When to high heaven my tongue still nightly bears, Old names like broken... | |
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