Lewis Morris (poet)
Welsh poet in the English language (1833-1907)
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- Rest springs from strife and dissonant chords beget
- "Love's Suicide", line 27, in Songs of Two Worlds (London: Henry S. King & Co., 1871), p. 39.
- Call no faith false which e'er has brought
Relief to any laden life,
Cessation to the pain of thought,
Refreshment 'mid the dust of strife.
- "Tolerance", line 1, in Songs of Two Worlds: Second Series (London: Henry S. King & Co., 1874), p. 92.
- What power was this—chance, will you say? But chance, what else can it mean
Than the hidden Cause of things by human reason unseen?
- "Evensong", line 25, in Songs of Two Worlds: Third series (London: Henry S. King & Co., 1875), p. 23.
The Epic of Hades (1877)Edit
London: Henry S. King & Co., 1877
- Love for Love
And Blood for Blood—the simple golden rule
Taught by the elder gods.
- Book I: Tartarus. "Clytemnestra", line125; p. 62.
- Life is a chase,
And man the hunter, always following on,
With hounds of rushing thought or fiery sense,
Some hidden truth or beauty, fleeting still
For ever through the thick-leaved coverts deep
And wind-worn wolds of life.
- Book II: Hades. "Actæon", line 136; p. 117
- [T]he world still needs
Its champion as of old, and finds him still.
- Book III: Olympus. "Herakles", line 38; p. 246.
The Ode of Life (1880)Edit
London: C. Kegan Paul & Co., 1880
- Sweet maidenhood! that to a silvery chime
Of music, and chaste fancies undefiled,
And modest grace and mild
Comëst, best gift of God to men.
- "The Ode of Youth: II. Maidenhood", line 5; p. 44.
- Toil is the law of life and its best fruit.
- "The Ode of Perfect Years: III. Labour", p. 80.
- The victories of Right
Are born of strife.
There were no Day were there no Night,
Nor, without dying, Life.
- "The Ode of Evil", p. 110.
London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd, 1901
- The wind that sighs before the dawn
Chases the gloom of night,
The curtains of the East are drawn,
And suddenly—'tis light.
- "Le Vent de l'Esprit", line 1; p. 6.
- The love of the Right, tho' cast down, the hate of victorious Ill,
All are sparks from the central fire of a boundless beneficent will.
- "A New Orphic Hymn", line 5; p. 10.
- Sound, jocund strains; on pipe and viol sound,
Young voices sing;
Wreathe every door with snow-white garlands round,
For lo! 'tis Spring!
Winter has passed with its sad funeral train,
And hope revives again.
- "Life-Music", line 1; p. 75.
- The passionate love of Right, the burning hate of Wrong.
- "The Diamond Jubilee: An Ode", line 11; p. 87.