'Tis a strange mystery, the power of words!
Life is in them, and death. A word can send
Scene.-- \Constantinople; the house of a Greek Conjurer\. 1521.
Paracelsus.
My wearied heart bade me farewell and left for the House of Fortune. As he reached that holy city which the soul had blessed and worshipped, he commenced wonder
Not stopping to mark the trail,
let me push even deeper
"Don't you sign in that 'ooker,
Reid's Gulistan;
Lowliness befits thee, violence suits thee not; a, naked man frantic in a bee-house is out of place. Leave aside thy strength, betake thyself to lowliness, that
As regards feeling pain, like a hand cut in battle,
consider the body a robe you wear.
Oh, thou who dost these pointers see,
And hears't the chiming hour,
Kings live in Palaces, and Pigs in sties,
And youth in Expectation. Youth is wise.
A band of Arab brigands having taken up their position on the top of
a mountain and closed the passage of caravans, the inhabitants of
Scene.-- \Basil; a chamber in the house of Paracelsus\. 1526.
Paracelsus, Festus.
I'd like to return to the world again,
To the dutiful, work-a-day world of men, —
The path of religion is neither in works nor words; there are no buildings thereon, but only desolation. Whoso becomes silent to pursue the path, his speech is
"Some likes pictures o' women," said Bill, "an' some like 'orses best,"
As he fitted a pair of fancy shackles on to his old sea ches
Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
"Ships . . . they go," said Murphy, "like a spent pay-roll . . . They're sunk in the deep water or they're wrecked in the shoal;
These are enchanted mirrors that I bring,
By demons wrought from metals of the moon
No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will.
Henceforth I deal in whispers.
the years disapated
& i havent anything
'Tis strange that in a land so strong
So strong and bold in mighty youth,
When I leave this Western ocean, to the South'ard I will steer
In a tall Colonial clipper, far an' far enough from here,
Here, in my snug little fire-lit chamber,
Sit I alone:
The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reac
"Does the blackened ruin, situated in the stony ground between Durraj and Mutathallam, which did not speak to me, when addressed, belong to the abode of Ummi Aw
"Ain't it rum?" said Dan one day,
Yarning while he worked away
A happy vicar I might have been
Two hundred years ago
PALM Sunday at the Vatican
They celebrate with palms;
What of the years of Englishmen?
What have they brought of growth and grace
"Come all you young seamen, take heed now to me,
A hard case old sailorman bred to the sea,
In the slant of the sun on the country-side,
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;
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