Poetry, Том 6Harriet Monroe Modern Poetry Association, 1915 |
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... Subscription ... $ 1.50 Published monthly by Seymour , Daughaday and Company , 1025 Fine Arts Building , Chicago . Entered as second - class matter at Postoffice , Chicago A Dagazine of Verse TO HAVE GREAT POETS THERE MUST.
... Subscription ... $ 1.50 Published monthly by Seymour , Daughaday and Company , 1025 Fine Arts Building , Chicago . Entered as second - class matter at Postoffice , Chicago A Dagazine of Verse TO HAVE GREAT POETS THERE MUST.
Сторінка iii
... Adèle : One Listens Cheyne , Elizabeth Gibson : A Poet to his Poems · · • PAGE 287 76 53 54 56 57 58 59 234 12 18 • 18 19 78 1 221 223 224 127 127 128 129 117 117 · 74 237 284 The Lilacs The Waterfall Colum , Padraic : The Wayfarer [ iii ]
... Adèle : One Listens Cheyne , Elizabeth Gibson : A Poet to his Poems · · • PAGE 287 76 53 54 56 57 58 59 234 12 18 • 18 19 78 1 221 223 224 127 127 128 129 117 117 · 74 237 284 The Lilacs The Waterfall Colum , Padraic : The Wayfarer [ iii ]
Сторінка vii
... Poet , Charles Wharton Stork A " Spoon River " Boost , Edgar Lee Masters Mr. Cary Protests , Lucian Cary The Death ... Poets - An Anthology PAGE 29 32 36 39 41 43 45 46 47 47 48 51 52 81 84 91 គត ៖៖៖៖ 88 95 95 97 97 98 98 98 99 102 ...
... Poet , Charles Wharton Stork A " Spoon River " Boost , Edgar Lee Masters Mr. Cary Protests , Lucian Cary The Death ... Poets - An Anthology PAGE 29 32 36 39 41 43 45 46 47 47 48 51 52 81 84 91 គត ៖៖៖៖ 88 95 95 97 97 98 98 98 99 102 ...
Сторінка viii
... Poet in the Desert , by Charles Erskine Scott Wood Our Contemporaries : I , H. M. II , The Discarded Imagist , Allen Upward CORRESPONDENCE : A Winged Word , Floyd Dell Notes . 52 , 104 , 158 , 213 , 267 , 321 263 264 266 297 302 306 308 ...
... Poet in the Desert , by Charles Erskine Scott Wood Our Contemporaries : I , H. M. II , The Discarded Imagist , Allen Upward CORRESPONDENCE : A Winged Word , Floyd Dell Notes . 52 , 104 , 158 , 213 , 267 , 321 263 264 266 297 302 306 308 ...
Сторінка 17
... poet , our sage- And that I touched the parchment , old yet new , Whereon his fingers once had been . I grew Strangely afraid , as if some heritage Of wonder from a distant , holy age Had suddenly fallen on me , like soft dew . " A ...
... poet , our sage- And that I touched the parchment , old yet new , Whereon his fingers once had been . I grew Strangely afraid , as if some heritage Of wonder from a distant , holy age Had suddenly fallen on me , like soft dew . " A ...
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Сторінка 117 - There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate...
Сторінка 121 - No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous — Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Сторінка 10 - England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Сторінка 117 - The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
Сторінка 116 - Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table...
Сторінка 80 - I HEAR a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid. Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid ; And I cannot find the place ! And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare : Little one ! Oh, little one ! I am searching everywhere.
Сторінка 121 - I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
Сторінка 273 - Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved, And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them, And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always,—...
Сторінка 117 - Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?
Сторінка 120 - Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets. After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor — And this, and so much more? — It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: 'That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.