Werner's Readings and Recitations, Svazek 9

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Edgar S. Werner, 1892
 

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Strana 167 - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Strana 142 - Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty According to my bond ; nor more nor less.
Strana 169 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air...
Strana 142 - The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; By .all the operation of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, for ever.
Strana 168 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love, And the crimson pall of eve...
Strana 12 - THE Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain : His blood-red banner streams afar ! Who follows in His train?
Strana 168 - Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high. Are each paved with the moon and these. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Strana 167 - I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the Blast. Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers Lightning, my pilot, sits; In a cavern under is fettered the Thunder, It struggles and howls at fits...
Strana 56 - This flower she stopped at, finger on lip, Stooped over, in doubt, as settling its claim; Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip, Its soft meandering Spanish name: What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep, or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
Strana 13 - A noble army: men and boys, The matron and the maid ; Around the Saviour's throne rejoice, In robes of light arrayed. They climbed the steep ascent of heaven Through peril, toil, and pain : O God, to us may grace be given To follow in their train.

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