Lotos Leaves: Original Stories, Essays, and Poems by Whitelaw Reid, Wilkie Collins, Mark Twain [and Others]John Brougham, John Elderkin William F. Gill, 1875 - 411 стор. |
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actor Admiral Anti-tobaccoite asked asylum Bagfield beautiful Bertha Bill Ballard boys brother called Captain character Charlestown dead dear drama Eastbourne Echo Cañon eyes face fairy father feel feet fellow Graham's Magazine Griswold hand Hawk's Nest head hear heard heart hermit human hundred Jeremy Collier John JOHN BROUGHAM John Brown Juggins knew lady larynx laugh Leprachaun living looked Lotos miles mind morning Morris Island mystery negro never nigger night Old Missourah once Park passed passion path person Philip Becker picul plantation plays Poe's poet poor river road Roland seemed Sing Sing Sing sleep soon sound stage stood story tell theater thing thou thought tion told took tree truth Ts'eu turned Upandownjohn Vermillion County voice walk whiskey Winterbottom words York Tribune
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Сторінка 317 - he said, and pointed toward the land, ' This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.' In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon.
Сторінка 318 - To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; To hear each other's whispered speech; Eating the Lotos day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy...
Сторінка 319 - Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown. We have had enough of action, and of motion we.
Сторінка 318 - They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops, Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. The charmed sunset linger'd low adown In the red West: thro...
Сторінка 318 - With half-dropt eyelids still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill...
Сторінка 318 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war...
Сторінка 318 - And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores ; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the grave ; And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
Сторінка 320 - Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong ; Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil, Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil, Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil ; Till they perish and they suffer — some...
Сторінка 318 - There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass ; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes ; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies, Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Сторінка 274 - But the house ! — how quaint an old building was this ! — to me how veritably a palace of enchantment ! There was really no end to its windings — to its incomprehensible subdivisions. It was difficult, at any given time, to say with certainty upon which of its two stories one happened to be.