Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!
There is such sweet pain in parting that I could hang forever on thine arms, and look away my life into thine eyes.
Man is not a ship in harbour; Earth is not a ship in harbour; even Universe is not a ship in harbour! No safe harbour for anything exists!
How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
I take this pain, Lord Jesus,
From Thine own hand;
The strength to bear it bravely
Thou wilt command.
I am too weak for effort.
So let me rest,
In hush of sweet submission
On Thine own breast.
The time is coming when all men will see that the gift of God to the soul is not a vaunting, overpowering, excluding sanctity, buta sweet, natural goodness, a goodness like thine and mine, and that so invites thine and mine to be and to grow.
Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call’d them sweet?
Ah love is bitter and sweet,
but which is more sweet
the bitterness or the sweetness,
none has spoken it.
Ah what avails the sceptred race, Ah what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
Thou shalt not steal the shekels of thine audience with a play which doth not let them know what the hell goeth on.
Is there something wrong?” he asked. She gave a short negative motion with her head. And then words, so sweet, like a cool northern breeze blowing off the lake. “You could hold me now.” It was almost his undoing. “Ah baby.
Ah, how sweet it is to love! Ah, how gay is young Desire! And what pleasing pains we prove When we first approach Love's fire!
Do thine own task, and be therewith content.
Doth sickness fill my heart with fear, 'Tis sweet to know that Thou art near; Am I with dread of justice tried, 'Tis sweet to know that Christ hath died.
Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?