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" A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. "
The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal - الصفحة 356
1856
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A.G. Meissners Skizzen ...

August Gottlieb Meissner - 1784 - عدد الصفحات: 630
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, When our world-deafened ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caressed, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in...

Poems

Matthew Arnold - 1855 - عدد الصفحات: 270
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...clear, When our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast And a lost pulse of feeling stirs...

University Magazine: A Literary and Philosophic Review, المجلد 45

1855 - عدد الصفحات: 804
...A melancholy into all our day. "Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in onrs, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...clear, When our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caresg'd,— A bolt is shot back somewhere hi our breast And a lost pulse of feeling stirs...

The Dublin university magazine

University magazine - 1855 - عدد الصفحات: 784
...A melancholy into all our day. "Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, When our world-deafen 'd ear Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd,— A bolt is shot back somewhere in...

Tait's Edinburgh magazine, المجلد 22

1855 - عدد الصفحات: 784
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...hours, Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, When onr world-deafened car Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd — • A bolt is shot back somewhere...

The Massachusetts Teacher and Journal of Home and School Education, المجلد 10

1857 - عدد الصفحات: 894
...A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare, — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caressed, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again...

Poems

Matthew Arnold - 1856 - عدد الصفحات: 386
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...clear, When our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress' d, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast And a lost pulse of feeling...

Deutsche Liebe: aus den Papieren eines Fremdlings..

Friedrich Max Müller - 1857 - عدد الصفحات: 192
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, When our world- deafen'd ear ls by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in...

German love, tr. with the sanction of the author [F.M. Müller] by S. Winkworth

Max Muller - 1858 - عدد الصفحات: 226
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...voice caress'd, — A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again : The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,...

Poems of the Inner Life: Selected Chiefly from Modern Authors

R. C. J. - 1866 - عدد الصفحات: 304
...convey A melancholy into all our day. Only—but this is rare— When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...clear, When our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a lov'd voice caress'd,— A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast And a lost pulse of feeling stirs...




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