The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private EjaculationsElliot Stock, 1876 - 192 من الصفحات |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations <span dir=ltr>George Herbert</span> لا تتوفر معاينة - 2015 |
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
againſt alſo anſwer Becauſe beſt bleffed bloud breaſt Chrift Church cloſe crie croffe dayes deare death delight deſtroy doth dreft duft earth ev'n ev'ry eyes faid farre fear feek ferve fhall fhould fhow figh filk fince fing finne firft firſt fleſh flie fome forrows foul ftill ftone ftraight fuch funne fure fweet glorie grace grief grone hand hath heart heav'n himſelf houſe joyes leffe loft Lord meaſure moft moſt mufick muft muſt paffe pleaſe pleaſure pofie poore preſent raiſe reft reſtore runne ſay ſee ſeek ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhine ſhow Sinne skie ſmall ſome ſpeak ſphere ſpread ſpring ſtanding ſtarres ſtate ſtay ſtill ſtore ſtrange Sunne ſweet taſte tears thee thefe theſe thine things thofe thoſe thou art thou didst thou doft thy felf thy love thy praiſe treaſure unto uſe vertue wayes Wherefore whofe whoſe wilt winde
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 173 - I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
الصفحة 147 - Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.
الصفحة 147 - All wasted? Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures; leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not; forsake thy...
الصفحة 72 - O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To crie to thee, And then not heare it crying! all day long My heart was in my knee, But no hearing. Therefore my soul lay out of sight, Untun'd, unstrung: My feeble spirit, unable to look right, Like a nipt blossome, hung Discontented.
الصفحة 160 - The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered greenness?
الصفحة 161 - And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing. O my onely light, It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night.
الصفحة 147 - Thy rope of sands, Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears.
الصفحة 33 - I GOT me flowers to straw Thy way; I got me boughs off many a tree: But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. The sun arising in the east, Though he give light, and th' east perfume; If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume.
الصفحة 150 - COME, my way, my truth, my life ! Such a way as gives us breath ; Such a truth as ends all strife ; Such a life as killeth death. Come, my light, my feast, my strength ! Such a light as shows a feast ; Such a feast as mends in length ; Such a strength as makes his guest. Come, my joy, my love, my heart ! Such a joy as none can move ; Such a love as none can part ; Such a heart...
الصفحة 67 - Whom, if we were not very dull, "We could not choose but look on still ; Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill.