Festus: A Poem

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Page 80 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most — feels the noblest — acts the best.
Page 40 - Earth may some purer beings' presence bear ; Mayhap even God may walk among His saints, In eminence and brightness like yon moon, Mildly outbeaming all the beads of light Strung o'er night's proud dark brow. How strangely fair Yon round still star, which looks half suffering from, And half rejoicing in its own strong fire ; Making itself a lonelihood of light, Like Deity, where'er in Heaven it dwells. How can the beauty of material things So win the heart and work upon the mind, Unless like-natured...
Page 7 - Poetry is itself a thing of God; He made His prophets poets ; and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power, — under-makers.
Page 139 - Who can mistake great thoughts? They seize upon the mind ; arrest, and search, And shake it ; bow the tall soul as by wind ; Rush over it like rivers over reeds, Which quaver in the current ; turn us cold, And pale, and voiceless ; leaving in the brain A rocking and a ringing, — glorious, But momentary ; madness might it last, And close the soul with Heaven as with a seal.
Page 50 - More pure and fair than even its outward type. If one did thus, was it from vanity ? Or thoughtlessness, or worse ? Nay, let it pass. The beautiful are never desolate ; But some one alway loves them — God or man. If man abandons, God himself takes them.
Page 96 - Thee of deeds the pen hath done, Or caused, or glozed ; inspire them with delight And power to treat of noble themes and things, Worthily, and to leave the low and mean ; Things born of vice or day-lived fashion, in Their naked native folly : make them know Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which Men are and ought to be accountable, If not to Thee, to those they influence. Grant this, we pray thee, and that all who read Or utter noble thoughts may make them theirs, And thank God for...
Page 275 - Death is another life. We bow our heads At going out, we think, and enter straight Another golden chamber of the king's, Larger than this we leave, and lovelier.
Page 288 - Our life is comely as a whole ; nay, more, Like rich brown ringlets, with odd hairs all gold. (We women have four seasons, like the year, Our spring is in our lightsome girlish days, When the heart laughs within us for sheer joy ; Ere yet we know what love is or the ill Of being loved by those whom we love not.
Page 146 - That sets its bosom glowing like Love's own Breathless embrace, close-clinging as for life ; — Veined it with gold, and dusted it with gems, Lined it with fire, and round its heart-fire bowed Rock-ribs unbreakable ; until at last Earth took her shining station as a star, In Heaven's dark hall, high up the crowd of worlds.
Page 110 - America ! half-brother of the world ! With something good and bad of every land ; Greater than thee have lost their seat— Greater scarce none can stand.

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