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Lyra Heroica (v. 1); A Book of Verse for Boys, Sel. and Arranged by William Ernest Henley
Lyra Heroica A Book of Verse for Boys Sel and Arranged by William Ernest Henley - v. 1 Author:William Ernest Henley Volume: v. 1 General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1893 Original Publisher: David Nutt Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com wher... more »e you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: Bid me despair, and I 'll despair Under that cypress-tree; Or bid me die, and I will dare E'en death to die for thee. Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me And hast command of every part, To live and die for thee. Herrick. MEMENTO MORI Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright -- The bridal of the earth and sky -- The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul Like seasoned timber never gives, But, though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. THE KING OF KINGS The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels when they kill, But their strong nerves at last must yield : They tame but one another still. Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on their brow -- Then boast no more your mighty deeds ! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds ! All heads must come To the cold tomb: Only t...« less