The Inn of Strange Meetings and Other Poems, Випуск 246Henry S. King, 1871 - 190 стор. |
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æther afar amid the limes amorous beauty birds bloom blue breast breath bride bright bright eyes brown brown eyes Creçi cyclamen darling deep delicious delight divine dream Earine Eleänore fair fate feet flowers fluttered Gallic Empire gaze girl golden Greek hair happy heart Helen Helvellyn Immanuel Kant Ivory Gate joyous kiss lady laugh lips little Laurette love's lymph magical maiden Marigold marvellous Megalopolis melody Merlin mighty miniver MORTIMER COLLINS murmur mystic neath night o'er pass passionate passionate music poet pulse Rains music rhyme River of Dart rose Rupert sing sleep soft song star STRANGE MEETINGS summer sunset swallows sweet Sweeter swift thing thou Thrush touch true song turf Twas Uther Pendragon VIII violet virgin vision vision Waits for thee wandering weary weird wild wind Windermere wine Winter in Brighton wondrous woodland wooing young Zeus
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Сторінка 83 - Latini, et quo quemque modo fugiatque feratque laborem. sunt geminae Somni portae, quarum altera fertur cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris, altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto, sed falsa ad caelum mittunt insomnia Manes.
Сторінка 116 - If by some arrangement dual I were Adams mixed with Whewell, Then some day I, as wooer, perhaps might come To so sweet an Artium Magistra.
Сторінка 140 - RIVER of Dart ! O river of Dart ! Every year thou claimest a heart. Beautiful river, through fringe of fern Gliding swift to the southern sea, Such is the fame thy wild waves earn, Such is the dirge men sing by thee : For the cry of Dart is the voice of doom, When the floods are out in the moorland gloom.
Сторінка 159 - But wherefore one's age be revealing ? Leave that to the Registry books. A man — is as old as he's feeling; A woman, as old as she looks; Don't eagles live longer than rooks ? Besides, in this festival season 'Tis fit that great truths should be told : ' Whom the gods love, die young' — for this reason, They cannot grow old.
Сторінка 84 - Then the oars of Ithaca dip so Silently into the sea, That they wake not sad Calypso — * And the Hero wanders free : He breasts the ocean-furrows, At war with the words of Fate — And the blue tide's low susurrus Comes up to the Ivory Gate.
Сторінка 94 - On a river whose ripples to ocean haste, With indolent fingers fretting the tide, And an indolent arm round a darling waist — And to see as the Western purple dies, Hesper mirrored in brown, brown eyes. Summer is fleet, ah! summer is fleet, — Minna mine with the brown, brown eyes: Onward travel his flying feet, And the mystical colours of autumn rise. Clouds will gather round...
Сторінка 41 - NO ; I shall pass into the Morning Land As now from sleep into the life of morn ; Live the new life of the new world, unshorn Of the swift brain, the executing hand ; See the dense darkness suddenly withdrawn, As when Orion's sightless eyes discerned the dawn. I shall behold it ; I shall see the utter Glory of sunrise heretofore unseen, Freshening the woodland ways with brighter green, And calling into life all wings that flutter, All throats of music and all eyes of light, And driving o'er the verge...
Сторінка 176 - Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes ! May I not dream God sends thee there, Thou mellow angel of the air, Even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes With music's soul, all praise and prayer? Is that thy lesson in the limes ? Closer to God art thou than I ; His minstrel thou, whose brown wings fly Through silent aether's sunnier climes. Ah, never may thy music die! Sing on, dear Thrush, amid the limes...
Сторінка 175 - ALL through the sultry hours of June, From morning blithe to golden noon, And till the star of evening climbs The gray-blue East, a world too soon, • There sings a Thrush amid the limes.
Сторінка 183 - Romney's touch be true, What a lucky dog were you, Grandpapa! Her lips are sweet as love; They are parting! Do they move? Are they dumb ? Her eyes are blue, and beam Beseechingly, and seem To say, "Come!