When steam first began to pump and wheels go round at so many revolutions per minute, what are called business habits were intended to make the life of man run in harmony with the steam engine, and his movement rival the train in punctuality.
When steam first began to pump and wheels go round at so many revolutions per minute, what are called business habits were intended to make the life of man run in harmony with the steam engine, and his movement rival the train in punctuality.
Wert thou betrayed by thine own joy?
I would not have the love of lips and eyes,
The ancient ways of love:
But in my heart I built a Paradise,
A nest there for the dove.
A friend I greet
In each flower and tree and wind-
Oh, but life is sweet, is sweet!
You and I of Time are not afraid.
Wiser than they below who dream or sleep?
Where was Thy place, O Light of Lights?
Not the soul that's whitest
Wakens love the sweetest:
When the heart is lightest
Oft the charm is fleetest.
I knew the fountain of the deep
Wells up with living joy, unfed:
Such joys the lonely heart may keep,
And love grow rich with love unwed.
All the dewy tender breath
Idly falls when life is done
On the starless brow of death.
What is the love of shadowy lips
That know not what they seek or press,
From whom the lure for ever slips
And fails their phantom tenderness?
I needed love no words could say;
She drew me softly nigh her chair,
My head upon her knees to lay,
With cool hands that caressed my hair.
Forgive me, Spirit of my spirit, for this, that I have found it easier to read the mystery told in tears and understood Thee better in sorrow than in joy.
When love and grief were ended
The flower of pity grew:
By unseen hands 't was tended
And fed with holy dew.
So your life was like a sphere's:
One side, all aglow, meets day,
And the other turned away,
Icy-strange and cold appears,
Overhung with starry tears.
Though the dream of love may tire,
In the ages long agone
There were ruby hearts of fire-
Ah, the daughters of the dawn!
What voice for the world of men?
I love the free in thee, my bird,
The lure of freedom drew;
The light you fly toward, my bird,
I fly with thee unto.
And behind it hosts supernal
Guarding the lost paradise,
And the tree of life eternal
From the weeping human eyes.
I think that in the coming time
The hearts and hopes of men
The mountain tops of life shall climb,
The gods return again.
Oh, must we use the iron hand,
And mask with hate the holy breath,
With alien voice give love's command,
As they through love the call of death?
Oh light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings,
While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.
Ah, to think how thin the veil that lies Between the pain of hell and Paradise.
We liken love to this and that; our thought
The echo of a deeper being seems:
We kiss, because God once for beauty sought
Within a world of dreams.
After the spiritual powers, there is no thing in the world more unconquerable than the spirit of nationality. The spirit of nationality in Ireland will persist even though the mightiest of material powers be its neighbor.
You and I have trod the backward way
To the happy heart of yesterday,
To the love we felt in ages past.
Any relations in a social order will endure, if there is infused into them some of that spirit of human sympathy which qualifies life for immortality.
They fade in you; their lips are fain
To meet the old caress:
And all their love is mine again
As lip to lip we press.
Let it dwell there, let it rest there, at home in your heart:
Wafted on winds of gold, it is Love itself, the Dove.
That is the flame of love I send to you from afar:
Not a wafted kiss, hardly a whispered word,
But love itself that flies as a white-winged star.
We may fight against what is wrong, but if we allow ourselves to hate, that is to insure our spiritual defeat and our likeness to what we hate.
Let your heart alone go dreaming.
Seek on earth what you have found in heaven.
What of all the heart to love?
You can't evoke great spirits and eat plums at the same time.
The warmth of life is quenched with bitter frost;
Upon the lonely road a child limps by
Skirting the frozen pools: our way is lost:
Our hearts sink utterly.
Our hearts were drunk with a beauty Our eyes could never see.
When our glowing dreams were dead,
Ruined our heroic piles,
Something in your dark eyes said:
Think no more of love or smiles.
We bade adieu to love the old;
We heard another lover then,
Whose forms are myriad and untold,
Sigh to us from the hearts of men.
As within the quiet waters passing,
Sun and moon and stars we view,
So the loveliness of life is glassing,
Child, in you.
What outstretched love would meet them at the gate?
You have come a path of flowers.
He does not love the bended knees,
The soul made wormlike in His sight,
Within whose heaven are hierarchies
And solar kings and lords of light.
A myriad lovers died for me, and in their latest yielded breath
I woke in glory giving them immortal life though touched by death.
You and I have found the secret way,
None can bar our love or say us nay:
All the world may stare and never know
You and I are twined together so.
The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear
Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear.
And there we yet will meet, my bird,
Though far I go from you
Where in the light outpoured, my bird,
Are love and freedom too.
When in their councils over all
Men set the power that sells and buys,
Be sure the price of life will fall,
Death be more precious in our eyes.
We must rise or we must fall:
Love can know no middle way:
If the great life do not call,
Then is sadness and decay.
When for love it was fain of
The wild heart was chidden,
When the white limbs were clothed
And the beauty was hidden;
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories