Poetry, Том 6Harriet Monroe Modern Poetry Association, 1915 |
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Сторінка xii
... stand still . The sun was smouldering in a great ravine , And I , with elbow on the window - sill , Was watching the dim ember of the west , When hushed and low , but poignant as a bell For fire , there came a moan : the voice of one in ...
... stand still . The sun was smouldering in a great ravine , And I , with elbow on the window - sill , Was watching the dim ember of the west , When hushed and low , but poignant as a bell For fire , there came a moan : the voice of one in ...
Сторінка 1
... stand poised In the blue and buoyant air , Cinctured by bright winds , Treading the sunlight . And the waves which precede you Ripple and stir The sands at my feet . [ 9 ] Army Lowell ! Again , when Celia laughed , I doubted her and.
... stand poised In the blue and buoyant air , Cinctured by bright winds , Treading the sunlight . And the waves which precede you Ripple and stir The sands at my feet . [ 9 ] Army Lowell ! Again , when Celia laughed , I doubted her and.
Сторінка 2
... stand together on our lake's edge , and the mystery Of love has made us one , as day is made of night and night of day . Conscious of one identity Within each other , we can say , ' I love you , all that you are . ' We are uplifted till ...
... stand together on our lake's edge , and the mystery Of love has made us one , as day is made of night and night of day . Conscious of one identity Within each other , we can say , ' I love you , all that you are . ' We are uplifted till ...
Сторінка 4
... stand still . The sun was smouldering in a great ravine , And I , with elbow on the window - sill , Was watching the dim ember of the west , When hushed and low , but poignant as a bell For fire , there came a moan : the voice of one in ...
... stand still . The sun was smouldering in a great ravine , And I , with elbow on the window - sill , Was watching the dim ember of the west , When hushed and low , but poignant as a bell For fire , there came a moan : the voice of one in ...
Сторінка 9
... stand poised In the blue and buoyant air , Cinctured by bright winds , Treading the sunlight . And the waves which precede you Ripple and stir The sands at my feet . [ 9 ] Army Lowveling SOLITAIRE When night drifts along the streets of ...
... stand poised In the blue and buoyant air , Cinctured by bright winds , Treading the sunlight . And the waves which precede you Ripple and stir The sands at my feet . [ 9 ] Army Lowveling SOLITAIRE When night drifts along the streets of ...
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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.