ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
bear better blessings blood brave breast breath bring canst Church dear death delight door doth drops dust e'en ears earth eyes face fall fear fire flesh flowers fruit gain gave give glory God's grace grief ground grow hand hath head hear heart heaven hold holy hope hour keep King leave less lies light live look Lord lost mark mean measure mind move never night once pains pass peace pleasure poor praise present rest rise seek serve shine sigh sing sins sometimes sorrow soul stand stars stay stone sure sweet tears Thee Thine things Thou art Thou didst Thou dost Thou hast thoughts Thyself true turn unto Wherefore wind write
الصفحة 154 - I cannot look on thee. Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I \ Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them : let my shame Go where it doth deserve. And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame \ My dear, then I will serve.
الصفحة 51 - But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. His eyes dismount the highest star: He is in little all the sphere. Herbs gladly cure our flesh; because that they Find their acquaintance there.
الصفحة 149 - 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.
الصفحة 154 - A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here : Love said, You shall be he. I the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on thee.
الصفحة 35 - To endless death, but thou dost pull And turn us round to look on one 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. Sundays the pillars are On which heav'n's palace arched lies; The other days fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities.
الصفحة 138 - Profaneness in my head, Defects and darkness in my breast, A noise of passions ringing me for dead Unto a place where is no rest : Poor Priest thus am I drest. Only another head I have, another heart and breast, Another music, making live, not dead, Without whom I could have no rest : In him I am well drest.
الصفحة 115 - The Collar. I STRUCK the board, and cry'd, No more. I will abroad. What? shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the rode, Loose as the winde, as large as store.
الصفحة 19 - With thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories : Then shall the fall further the flight in me.