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the willows, and the hazel copses green, | 2 |
the likeness of the wood's remembered leaves. | 2 |
his days in peace; but his straight lips were bent, | 3 |
for vessels moulded by a mortal hand? | 2 |
from the slaughtering of my offspring, and the spoiling of my land; | 0 |
what i have heard, | 2 |
but laon? on high freedom's desert land | 2 |
the soul with sweetness, and like an adept | 1 |
on that shaded day, | 2 |
no answer came; but faint and forlorn | 0 |
the lady eunice such a life she flew | 2 |
and heavy as the dead. | 0 |
i would not live alway--live alway below! | 2 |
for suddenly the sweet bells overcame | 1 |
yon creamy lily for their pavilion | 2 |
a woman has been strangled with less weight: | 0 |
appeared to me,--may i again behold it! | 2 |
howled through the dark, like sounds from hell. | 0 |
make a fragrance of her fame. | 1 |
betrayed how mightily its heart was stirred, | 3 |
overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, | 2 |
thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, | 1 |
troubling with life the waters of the world. | 0 |
no man could compete with kwasind. | 2 |
that by nor sound nor word | 2 |
when our mother nature laughs around; | 1 |
from kindling spark struck out from dead king's brow, | 3 |
and the words which he utters, are--worship, or die! | 0 |
precisely, at all events, what he ought not, | 2 |
rang the beautiful wild chimes | 1 |
first feels the gathering head of steam, | 2 |
the weird pathetic scarlet of day dawning, | 0 |
and to thy brief captivity was brought | 2 |
and listening to thy home's familiar chime | 2 |
sometimes towards heav'n and the full-blazing sun, | 1 |
all right,' says t'other, 'only step round smart; | 2 |
grander, nobler, than that pilot | 1 |
dearest, why should i mourn, whimper, and whine, i that have yet to live? | 3 |
in every health we drink, my boys, | 2 |
but your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin' nothun bretherin; | 0 |
where holds the soul communion with its god, | 2 |
so runs the perfect cycle of the year. | 1 |
the limpid ocean mirrors all the stars, | 1 |
ashes and jet all hues outshine. | 1 |
many changes have been run | 2 |
as childhood's sweet delight. | 1 |
"it is a lie, a damned, infernal lie!" | 0 |
bred onely and completed to the taste | 2 |
and after that the winter cold and drear. | 0 |
thus hee in scorn. the warlike angel mov'd, | 0 |
what flecks the outer gray beyond | 2 |
"does he mean himself, i wonder? | 2 |
lull’d in her lap, amidst a train of loves, | 1 |
come up like ocean murmurs. but the scene | 2 |
and in a pleasing slumber seals his eyes: | 1 |
sweet poesy from heaven | 1 |
o, i can ne'er forget | 2 |
the leprous corpse, touched by this spirit tender, | 3 |
ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, | 2 |
his sweeter voice a just accordance kept. | 1 |
false-faces hung on strings, | 0 |
that in their lives such deadly fray they ne'er had seen before. | 0 |
her not-nice load. | 0 |
unhitched the breeching from a shaft, | 2 |
tis that one told us it was life. 'for not | 2 |
who fishes in the frog-pond still? | 2 |
"as the gods would i see," said sigurd, "though death light up the land." | 3 |
which leans over to the lane, | 2 |
you hardly know when you are coming back, | 2 |
but the great spirit plants it in our hearts, | 2 |
nor is he, as some sages swear, | 2 |
of his faint steed; the latter, as he stretch’d | 2 |
i strive, i pray. | 1 |
who god possesseth | 2 |
these often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, | 2 |
that you or yours, having an appetite, | 2 |
the loveliest king of the king-folk, the man of sweetest speech, | 1 |
and fears are added, and avenging flame. | 0 |
who felt your own thought worthy of record | 1 |
and then, if it should be | 2 |
ez though i wanted to enlist 'em, | 2 |
behind the sea-wall's rugged length, | 2 |
how they will tell the shipwreck | 2 |
tis gone past recalling! | 2 |
and stiff in fight, but serious drill's despair, | 0 |
one lucent foot's delaying tip | 2 |
at his approaching footsteps. winter came | 2 |
till the deaf fury comes your house to sweep!' | 0 |
henceforth to labor's chivalry | 2 |
i'll be ther in a minit. | 2 |
but now i see, most cruell hee, | 0 |
our lives and safeties all; | 2 |
that little barley-cake you keep from him | 2 |
our wavering apparitions pass | 2 |
and ye who attend her imperial car, | 2 |
on the clear mirror of a loving heart, | 1 |
how weak this tinkling line, | 0 |
for that’s his specialty. what creature else | 2 |
her thoughts are like the lotus | 2 |
thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, | 3 |
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