work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3330,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,"Is there no balm in Thee to heal
The anguish of a sin-sick soul?
Dost Thou not know the pangs I feel?
Dost Thou not see the billows roll?
My soul is all a troubled sea,
I cannot find my rest in Thee.
",,8600,"","""My soul is all a troubled sea, / I cannot find my rest in Thee.""","",2009-09-14 19:33:39 UTC,""
4666,"",HDIS,2004-01-05 00:00:00 UTC,"While mad Ophelia we lament,
And Her distraction mourn,
Our grief's misplac'd, Our tears mispent,
Since what for Her condition's meant
More justly fits Our Own.
For if 'tis happiness to be,
From all the turns of Fate,
From dubious joy, and sorrow free;
Ophelia then is blest, and we
Misunderstand Her state.
The Fates may do whate'er they will,
They can't disturb her mind,
Insensible of good, or ill,
Ophelia is Ophelia still,
Be Fortune cross or kind.
Then make with reason no more noise,
Since what should give relief,
The quiet of Our mind destroys,
Or with a full spring-tide of joys,
Or a dead-ebb of grief.
(ll. 1-20, pp. 696-7)",,12264,•I've included twice: Tide and Ebb,"""The quiet of Our mind destroys, / Or with a full spring-tide of joys, / Or a dead-ebb of grief. ""","",2009-09-14 19:36:47 UTC,I've included the entire poem.
7399,"",Reading,2013-06-05 19:33:39 UTC,"From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose
I wake: how happy they who wake no more!
Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave.
I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams
Tumultuous; where my wreck'd desponding thought,
From wave to wave of fancied misery,
At random drove, her helm of reason lost:
Though now restored, 'tis only change of pain,
(A bitter change!) severer for severe.
The Day too short for my distress; and Night,
E'en in the zenith of her dark domain,
Is sunshine to the colour of my fate.
(ll. 6-17, pp. 37 in CUP edition)",,20385,"","""I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams / Tumultuous; where my wreck'd desponding thought, / From wave to wave of fancied misery, / At random drove, her helm of reason lost.""","",2013-06-05 19:33:39 UTC,Night The First
7399,"",Reading,2013-06-05 19:41:01 UTC,"Yet man (fool man!) here buries all his thoughts;
Inters celestial hopes without one sigh;
Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon,
Here pinions all his wishes; wing'd by Heaven
To fly at infinite; and reach it there
Where seraphs gather immortality,
On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God.
What golden joys ambrosial clustering glow
In His full beam, and ripen for the just,
Where momentary ages are no more!
Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death expire!
And is it in the flight of threescore years
To push eternity from human thought,
And smother souls immortal in the dust?
A soul immortal, spending all her fires,
Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness,
Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd,
At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge,
Resembles ocean into tempest wrought,
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
(ll. 135-154, pp. 40-1 in CUP edition)",,20389,"","""A soul immortal, spending all her fires, / Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, / Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, / At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, / Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, / To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.""","",2013-06-05 19:41:01 UTC,Night the First
7399,"",Reading,2013-06-05 19:54:37 UTC,"And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal but themselves;
Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fate
Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread.
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found.
As from the wing no scar the sky retains,
The parted wave no furrow from the keel,
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Can I forget Philander? That were strange.
O my full heart!--But should I give it vent,
The longest night, though longer far, would fail,
And the lark listen to my midnight song.
(ll. 423-437, pp. 47-8 in CUP edition)",,20396,"","""But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, / Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. / As from the wing no scar the sky retains, / The parted wave no furrow from the keel, / So dies in human hearts the thought of death.""",Animals,2013-06-11 14:45:55 UTC,Night the First
7400,"",Reading,2013-06-05 21:17:44 UTC,"Know'st thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains?
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers,
So men, from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight;
Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die.
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach?
Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied;
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too!
Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross;
When coin'd in word, we know its real worth.
If sterling, store it for thy future use;
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd:
Teaching we learn; and giving we retain
The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our mental magazine,
Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.
What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie,
Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rusted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech;
If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue!
'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum,
And defecates the student's standing pool.
(ll. 461-487, p. 63 in CUP edition)",,20410,"","""Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied; / Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too!""","",2013-06-05 21:17:44 UTC,Night the Second
7400,"",Reading,2013-06-05 21:26:43 UTC,"Know'st thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains?
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers,
So men, from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight;
Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die.
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach?
Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied;
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too!
Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross;
When coin'd in word, we know its real worth.
If sterling, store it for thy future use;
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd:
Teaching we learn; and giving we retain
The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our mental magazine,
Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.
What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie,
Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rusted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech;
If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue!
'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum,
And defecates the student's standing pool.
(ll. 461-487, p. 63 in CUP edition)",,20414,"","""'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push / Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, / And defecates the student's standing pool.""","",2013-06-05 21:26:43 UTC,Night the Second
7400,"",Reading,2013-06-05 21:35:52 UTC,"Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds,
And one alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent heaven,--the bosom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's pillow to repose divine.
Beware the counterfeit: in Passion's flame
Hearts melt; but melt like ice, soon harder froze.
True love strikes root in Reason, Passion's foe:
Virtue alone entenders us for life;
I wrong her much--entenders us for ever:
Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair
Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire,
And emulously rapid in her race.
O the soft enmity! endearing strife!
This carries friendship to her noon-tide point,
And gives the rivet of eternity.
(ll. 516-532, pp. 64-5 in CUP edition)",,20419,"","""Beware the counterfeit: in Passion's flame / Hearts melt; but melt like ice, soon harder froze.""","",2013-06-05 21:35:52 UTC,Night the Second
7402,"",Reading,2013-06-06 15:25:58 UTC,"Is this extravagant? Of man we form
Extravagant conception, to be just:
Conception unconfined wants wings to reach him:
Beyond its reach the Godhead only more.
He, the great Father, kindled at one flame
The world of rationals; one spirit pour'd
From Spirit's awful fountain; pour'd Himself
Through all their souls; but not in equal stream;
Profuse or frugal of the' inspiring God,
As His wise plan demanded; and, when past
Their various trials in their various spheres,
If they continue rational, as made,
Resorbs them all into Himself again;
His throne their centre, and His smile their crown.
(ll. 517-530, p. 104 in CUP edition)",,20441,"","""He, the great Father, kindled at one flame / The world of rationals; one spirit pour'd / From Spirit's awful fountain; pour'd Himself / Through all their souls; but not in equal stream.""","",2013-06-06 15:25:58 UTC,Night the Fourth
7698,"",Reading,2013-10-03 02:30:51 UTC,"Poor Man! how happy once in thy first State!
When yet but warm from thy great Maker's Hand,
He stamp'd thee with his Image, and well pleas'd
Smil'd on his last fair Work. Then all was well.
Sound was the Body, and the Soul serene;
Like two sweet Instruments ne'er out of Tune,
That play their several Parts. Nor Head, nor Heart,
Offer'd to ache: Nor was there Cause they should;
For all was pure within: No fell Remorse,
Nor anxious Castings up of what might be,
Alarm'd his peaceful Bosom: Summer Seas
Shew not more smooth, when kiss'd by Southern Winds
Just ready to expire. Scarce importun'd
The generous Soil with a luxuriant Hand
Offer'd the various Produce of the Year,
And every Thing most perfect in its Kind.
Blessed! thrice blessed Days! But Ah, how short!
Bless'd as the pleasing Dreams of Holy Men;
But fugitive like those, and quickly gone.
Oh! slipp'ry State of Things! What sudden Turns?
What strange Vicissitudes, in the first Leaf
Of Man's sad History? To-day most Happy,
And 'ere To morrow's Sun has set, most Abject!
How scant the Space between these vast Extremes!
Thus far'd it with our Sire: Not long he' enjoy'd
His Paradise! Scarce had the happy Tenant
Of the fair Spot due Time to prove its Sweets,
Or sum them up; when strait he must be gone
Ne'er to return again. And must he go?
Can nought compound for the first dire Offence
Of erring Man? Like one that is condemn'd
Fain would he trifle Time with idle Talk,
And parley with his Fate. But 'tis in vain.
Not all the lavish Odours of the Place
Offer'd in Incense can procure his Pardon,
Or mitigate his Doom. A mighty Angel
With flaming Sword forbids his longer Stay,
And drives the Loit'rer forth; nor must he take
One last and farewel Round. At once he lost
His Glory and his God. If mortal now,
And sorely maim'd, No Wonder! Man has sinn'd.
Sick of his Bliss, and bent on new Adventures,
Evil he wou'd needs try: Nor try'd in vain.
(Dreadful Experiment! Destructive Measure!
Where the worst Thing could happen, is Success.)
(pp. 33-4, ll. 541-585)",,22917,"","""For all was pure within: No fell Remorse, / Nor anxious Castings up of what might be, / Alarm'd his peaceful Bosom: Summer Seas / Shew not more smooth, when kiss'd by Southern Winds / Just ready to expire.""","",2013-10-03 02:30:51 UTC,""