Louise Imogen GuineyMacmillan, 1921 - 111 стор. |
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Сторінка 12
... And this is no matter for wonder . Thin silvern echoes from the past were always chiming on her inward ear , majestic syllables drew on her imaginings , and while she dwelt on " old , unhappy , far - off things " the new wine 12.
... And this is no matter for wonder . Thin silvern echoes from the past were always chiming on her inward ear , majestic syllables drew on her imaginings , and while she dwelt on " old , unhappy , far - off things " the new wine 12.
Сторінка 37
... echoes from " forgotten or infrequent lyres . " " Apollo , " she says , " has a class of might- have - beens whom he loves : poets bred in melancholy places , under disabilities , with thwarted growth and thinned voices ; poets ...
... echoes from " forgotten or infrequent lyres . " " Apollo , " she says , " has a class of might- have - beens whom he loves : poets bred in melancholy places , under disabilities , with thwarted growth and thinned voices ; poets ...
Сторінка 52
... , to the far heard echoes of Greek harmony . She was ready with her cock to Esculapius , the tribute of her gentle allegiance to those kingly pagans who loved the light of the sun and shrank from the " dishonor of the grave , " who 52.
... , to the far heard echoes of Greek harmony . She was ready with her cock to Esculapius , the tribute of her gentle allegiance to those kingly pagans who loved the light of the sun and shrank from the " dishonor of the grave , " who 52.
Сторінка 63
... echoes of a harmony heavenly if austere . Some of these devout lyrics are so individual her very personality flashes out before you , and you hear her own lips chant- ing her own song . She is the figure in the stained glass window ...
... echoes of a harmony heavenly if austere . Some of these devout lyrics are so individual her very personality flashes out before you , and you hear her own lips chant- ing her own song . She is the figure in the stained glass window ...
Сторінка 72
... echoes back to him with a loneliness terrifying to hear . Need that dull his fancy and mute his tongue ? Not in youth , perhaps . When the blood flows boundingly , you write your verses on green leaves , so they are written , and if ...
... echoes back to him with a loneliness terrifying to hear . Need that dull his fancy and mute his tongue ? Not in youth , perhaps . When the blood flows boundingly , you write your verses on green leaves , so they are written , and if ...
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Abra adventure affectionate Aidôs arras Atalanta Auburndale austere beauty beguiling blazon blood born brave breath century Charles Lamb Chipping Campden comma dead dear death delight despair dull earth echoes Edmund Gosse England essays exquisite eyes fancy form and color genius gods grief guess Guiney's hand Hazlitt heart heaven Heraclitus hoyden immortal knew Knight Errant later learned less letters lineage Lionel Johnson literary Little English Gallery living Louise Guiney LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY magic Mangan ment mind mortal Muse ness never night once so merry pagan passion Patrins poem poet poetry praise printing prose rain remembers responsive rich road Robert Louis Stevenson says scholar sense sentience singing smile song sonnet soul spirit stanza sweet Thee things thou Tusitala Vaughan verse walking wave wild wind word writes wrote young youth
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Сторінка 109 - HERACLITUS THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead ; They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remembered, how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake ; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
Сторінка 50 - We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers. (I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.) We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind; We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil. Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow.
Сторінка 51 - ... hoofs of invisible horses, All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing. Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle Weatherworn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses; There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: What odds?
Сторінка 50 - The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses; There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us: What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.
Сторінка 71 - Are ye unwise who would not let me love you? Or must too bold desires be quieted? Only to ease you, never to reprove you, I will go back to heaven with heart unfed: Yet sisterly I turn, I bend above you, To kiss (ah, with what sorrow!) all my dead. Next to the Golden City of belief she had, as she began, continued to serve poetry, the "love of lovely words.
Сторінка 111 - Keep holy watch, with silence, prayer, and fasting, Till morning break and every bugle play. Unto the One aware from everlasting Dear are the winners : thou art more than they. Forth from this peace on manhood's way thou goest, Flushed with resolve, and radiant in mail ; Blessing supreme for men unborn thou sowest, O Knight elect ! O soul ordained to fail...
Сторінка 50 - And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam : Not here is our prize, nor, alas ! after these our pursuing. A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle, A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty ; We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.
Сторінка 59 - THE gusty morns are here, When all the reeds ride low with level spear ; And on such nights as lured us far of yore, Down rocky alleys yet, and through the pine, The Hound-star and the pagan Hunter shine: But I and thou, ah, field-fellow of mine, Together roam no more.
Сторінка 28 - This book, deriving its fortunate title from patrin, "a Gypsy trail : handfuls of leaves or grass cast by the Gypsies on the road, to denote to those behind the way which they have taken," is primarily for him whom reading "maketh a full man.
Сторінка 59 - The cowslip's common gold that children spy, The plume upon the larch. There is a music fills The oaks of Belmont and the Wayland hills Southward to Dewing's little bubbly stream, The heavenly weather's call ! Oh, who alive Hastes not to start, delays not to arrive, Having free feet that never felt a gyve Weigh, even in a dream?