The universal anthology, a collection of the best literature, with biographical and explanatory notes, ed. by R. Garnett, L. Vallée, A. Brandl. Imperial ed, Tom 8

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Richard Garnett
1899

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Strona 128 - Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing...
Strona 127 - Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; The beggar is taxed for a corner to die, in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in ; At the devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold...
Strona 130 - The leper raised not the gold from the dust : "Better to me the poor man's crust, Better the blessing of the poor, Though I turn me empty from his door ; That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; He gives nothing but worthless gold Who gives from a sense of duty...
Strona 131 - Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees Bending to counterfeit a breeze; Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew; Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief With quaint arabesques...
Strona 129 - It was morning on hill and stream and tree, And morning in the young knight's heart; Only the castle moodily Rebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free, And gloomed by itself apart; The season brimmed all other things up Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup.
Strona 127 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And...
Strona 127 - At the devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold ; For a cap and bells our lives we pay, Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking : 'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 'Tis only God may be had for the asking, No price is set on the lavish summer ; June may be had by the poorest comer.
Strona 130 - As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, He was ware of a leper, crouched by the same, Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate; And a loathing over Sir Launfal came, The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, The flesh 'neath his armor...
Strona 131 - On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek ; It carried -a shiver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare ; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof ; All night by the white stars...
Strona 134 - When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust, He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink And gave the leper to eat and drink...

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