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Seite 155 - All may of Thee partake : Nothing can be so mean, Which with this tincture " for Thy sake " Will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine : Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, Makes that and the action fine. This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold : For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for less be told.
Seite 23 - If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.
Seite xix - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Seite 23 - That he soul's language understood, And by good love were grown all mind, Within convenient distance stood, He, though he knew not which soul spake, Because both meant, both spake the same, Might thence a new concoction take And part far purer than he came.
Seite 85 - And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Seite xlviii - Thy beams so reverend and strong Why shouldst thou think? I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, But that I would not lose her sight so long. If her eyes have not blinded thine, Look, and to-morrow late tell me, Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Seite 23 - Our two souls, therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two: Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth if th
Seite 87 - Take me to you, imprison me, for I Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Seite 84 - DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
Seite 15 - And we join to it our strength, And we teach it art and length, Itself o'er us to advance. When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind, But sigh'st my soul away; When thou weep'st, unkindly kind, My life's blood doth decay. It cannot be That thou lov'st me as thou say'st, If in thine my life thou waste; Thou art the best of me.