Mary Leigh; Or, Purpose in Life, Etc. [With Plates.]

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Seite 136 - On my bended knee I recognise Thy purpose, clearly shown : My vision Thou hast dimmed that I may see Thyself — Thyself alone. " I have nought to fear ; This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing; Beneath it I am almost sacred, here Can come no evil thing. " Oh ! I seem to stand Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless Land, Which eye hath never seen.
Seite 40 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Seite 187 - WHEN some beloved voice that was to you Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, And silence against which you dare not cry, Aches round you like a strong disease and new — What hope ? what help ? what music will undo That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh. Not reason's subtle count. Not melody Of viols, nor of pipes that Faunus blew. Not songs of poets, nor of nightingales, Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress-trees To the clear moon ! nor yet the spheric laws Self-chanted,...
Seite 33 - LOOK. NOT MOURNFULLY INTO THE PAST : IT COMES NOT BACK AGAIN. WISELY IMPROVE THE PRESENT : IT is THINE. Go FORTH TO MEET THE SHADOWY FUTURE, WITHOUT FEAR, AND WITH A MANLY HEART.
Seite 136 - I AM old and blind! Men point at me as smitten by God's frown; Afflicted and deserted of my kind, Yet I am not cast down. I am weak, yet strong; I murmur not that I no longer see; Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, Father Supreme! to thee.
Seite 144 - O, thou child of many prayers ! Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares ! Care and age come unawares ! Like the swell of some sweet tune, Morning rises into noon, May glides onward into June.
Seite 24 - Like meek prayers before a shrine. Face and figure of a child, — Though too calm, you think, and tender, For the childhood you would lend her.

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