From “Festus”
FOR to die young is youth’s divinest gift;
To pass from one world fresh into another,
Ere change hath lost the charm of soft regret,
And feel the immortal impulse from within
Which makes the coming life cry always, On!
And follow it...
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“she is dead!” they said to him; “come away; They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair; Over her eyes that gazed too much |
Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold HE who dies at Azan 1 sends Faithful friends! it lies, I know,... |
It is not death to die, It is not death to close It... |
There is no death! the stars go down There is no death! the forest leaves |
Sonnet Cxlvi. |
The Melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, |
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, |
From “Verses upon His Divine Poesy” |
From “The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” Canto V. CALL it not vain:—they do not err, |