Continuous as the stars that shine; And twinkle on the milky way.
Continuous as the stars that shine; And twinkle on the milky way.
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
It is only partly true that religion does more harm than good in society. The community makes God into the image it wants, vengeful, or milky sweet, or scrupulously just, and so on.
The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell, lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a way no other season did, hushed, solemn.
To ancient Chinese fancy, the Milky Way was a luminous river, - the River of Heaven, - the Silver Stream.
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
I think we are all of us a pretty milky lot, without tea-table convictions and our radicalism that keeps so consistently within the bounds of decorum . . . . I'd like to annihilate these stupid colleges of ours . . . instillers of stodginess.
Love is like what is called the Milky Way in heaven, A brilliant mass formed by thousands of little stars, of which each perhaps is nebulous.
I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.
The Milky Way is nothing else but a mass of innumerable stars planted together in clusters.
Ten years ago she split the air To seize what she could spy Tonight she bumps against a chair, Betrayed by milky eye. She seems to pant, Time up, time up My little dog must die, And lie in dust with Hector's pup I So, presently, must I.
Saying Good-bye to the God of Disease (1) Mauve waters and green mountains are nothing when the great ancient doctor Hua To could not defeat a tiny worm. A thousand villages collapsed, were choked with weeds, men were lost arrows. Ghosts sang in the doorway of a few desolate houses. Yet now in a day we leap around the earth or explore a thousand Milky Ways. And if the cowherd who lives on a star asks about the god of plagues, tell him, happy or sad, the god is gone, washed away in the waters. July 1, 1958
Her face is like the milky way i' the sky, A meeting of gentle lights without a name.
I am undecided whether or not the Milky Way is but one of countless others all of which form an entire system. Perhaps the light from these infinitely distant galaxies is so faint that we cannot see them.
The Moon, the dried weeds and the Pleiades Seven feet tall the dark, dried weedstalks make a part of the night a red lace on the milky blue sky.
I wanderd lonely as a cloud That floats on high oer vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretchd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company I gazedand gazedbut little thought What wealth the show to me had brought For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude And then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories