The Rugbæan

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Page 26 - And all killing insects and gnawing worms, And things of obscene and unlovely forms, She bore in a basket of Indian woof, Into the rough woods far aloof, In a basket, of grasses and wild flowers full, The freshest her gentle hands could pull For the poor banished insects, whose intent, Although they did ill, was innocent.
Page 57 - Labour's fair child, that languishes with wealth? Go then! and see them rising with the sun, Through a long course of daily toil to run; See them beneath the dog-star's raging heat, When the knees tremble and the temples beat ; Behold them, leaning on their scythes, look o'er The labour past, and toils to come explore; See them alternate suns and showers engage, And hoard up aches and anguish for their age...
Page 41 - Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain — She cannot fight the fear of death. What is she, cut from love and faith. But some wild Pallas from the brain Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst All barriers in her onward race For power. Let her know her place; She is the second, not the first.
Page 70 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Page 57 - ... their vulgar pride, Who, in their base contempt, the great deride ; Nor pride in learning, — though my clerk agreed, If fate should call him, Ashford might succeed ; Nor pride in rustic skill, although...
Page 31 - Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today.
Page 41 - HER eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears.
Page 31 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Page 110 - Men slander thee, my honest friend, And call thee in their pride, An emblem of their fickleness, Thou ever faithful guide. Each weak, unstable human mind A " weathercock " they call ; And thus, unthinkingly, mankind Abuse thee, one and all. They have no right to make thy name A by-word for their deeds : — They change their friends, their principles, Their fashions, and their creeds ; Whilst thou...
Page 148 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death...

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