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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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