Without, the sullen noises of the street! The voice of London, inarticulate, Hoarse and blaspheming, surges in to meet The silent blessing of the Immaculate. ...
When, by an edict of the powers supreme, The Poet in this bored world comes to be, His daunted mother, eager to blaspheme, Rages to God, who looks down piteously: ...
Lorsque, par un d'cret des puissances supr'mes, Le Po'te appara't en ce monde ennuy', Sa m're 'pouvant'e et pleine de blasph'mes Crispe ses poings vers Dieu, qui la prend en piti': ...
If you walk in the bush at night, In the wonderful silence deep, By the flickering lantern light When the birds are all asleep You may catch a sight of old Skinny-go-root, Otherwise Benjamin Bandicoot....
Their spirits beat upon mine Like the wings of a thousand butterflies. I closed my eyes and felt their spirits vibrating. I closed my eyes, yet I knew when their lashes...
Together in this grave lie Benjamin Pantier, attorney at law, And Nig, his dog, constant companion, solace and friend. Down the gray road, friends, children, men and women,...
There was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago, true she had her servants, but then she had her self. She ought to have hired Sisyphus,,...
'Be not attached.' So runs the great command For those who seek to 'know' and 'understand.' Who sounds the waters of the deeper sea Must first draw up his anchor and go free. ...
Be not content - contentment means inaction; The growing soul aches on its upward quest; Satiety is twin to satisfaction; All great achievements spring from life's unrest. ...
Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face. Poor human nature for a little space Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath...
Be of good cheer, brave spirit; steadfastly Serve that low whisper thou hast served; for know, God hath a select family of sons Now scattered wide thro' earth, and each alone,...
Why art thou sad, my Beppo? But last eve, Here at my feet, thy dear head on my breast, I heard thee say thy heart would no more grieve Or feel the olden ennui and unrest. ...
Rosalind. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits: disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I...