The Holy Cross Purple, Volume 29College of the Holy Cross, 1917 |
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Fréquemment cités
Page 341 - And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep. In the rash lustihead of my young powers, I shook the pillaring hours And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears I stand amid the dust o' the mounded years — My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
Page 455 - WHAT needs my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones, The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Page 341 - Now of that long pursuit Comes on at hand the bruit; That Voice is round me like a bursting sea: "And is thy earth so marred Shattered in shard on shard? Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! Strange, piteous, futile thing, Wherefore should any set thee love apart? Seeing none but I makes much of naught...
Page 338 - A region whose hedgerows have set to brick, whose soil is chilled to stone; where flowers are sold and women, where the men wither and the stars; whose streets to me on the most glittering day are black. For I unveil their secret meanings. I read their human hieroglyphs. I diagnose from a hundred occult signs the disease which perturbs their populous pulses. Misery cries out to me from the kerb-stone, despair passes me by in the ways; I discern limbs laden with fetters impalpable, but not imponderable...
Page 341 - Ah! must — Designer infinite! — Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? My freshness spent its wavering shower i...
Page 343 - I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds; Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds From the hid battlements of Eternity;' Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.
Page 455 - Ne was nought worldly to have an office. For him was lever han at his beddes hed A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red, Of Aristotle and his philosophic, Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.
Page 338 - Summer * (their wild wings rustled his guides' cymars) Looked up from disport at the passing comer, * as they pelted each other with handfuls of stars ; And the warden-spirits with startled feet rose, * hand on sword, by their tethered cars. With plumes night-tinctured englobed and...
Page 340 - O Pierre! this is a time when women and newborn infants teach sages and old men! Here am I shocked like a Jew because the face of the Church is darkened, and because she totters on her road forsaken by all men. And I wanted once more to clasp the empty tomb, to put my hand in the hole left by the cross. But my little daughter Violaine has been wiser. Is the object of life only to live? will the feet of God's children be fastened to this wretched earth? It is not to live, but to die, and not to hew...
Page 381 - The theory that the poet is a being above the world and apart from it is true of him as an observer only who applies to the phenomena about him the test of a finer and more spiritual sense. That he is a creature divinely set apart from his...