Jean François Millet: A Collection of Fifteen Pictures and a Portrait of the Painter

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1900 - 96 стор.

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Сторінка 38 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.
Сторінка 77 - God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts, That can alone make sweet the bitter draught, That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threatened in the fields and groves...
Сторінка 66 - Brethren, the sower's task is done. The seed is in its winter bed. Now let the dark-brown mould be spread, To hide it from the sun, And leave it to the kindly care Of the still earth and brooding air, As when the mother, from her breast, Lays the hushed babe apart to rest, And shades its eyes, and waits to see How sweet its waking smile will be. The tempest now may smite, the sleet All night on the drowned furrow beat, And winds that, from the cloudy hold, Of winter breathe the bitter cold, Stiffen...
Сторінка 37 - The angel of the Lord announced to Mary, And she conceived of the Holy Spirit. " Behold the handmaid of the Lord, Be it done unto me according to thy word. " And the word was made flesh And dwelt among us.
Сторінка 23 - SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP! SLEEP, baby, sleep ! Thy father watches his sheep ; Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree, And down comes a little dream on thee. Sleep, baby, sleep ! Sleep, baby, sleep ! The large stars are the sheep ; The little stars are the lambs, I guess ; And the gentle moon is the shepherdess. Sleep, baby, sleep...
Сторінка 67 - harvest of your land, thou shalt not make clean riddance of the corners of thy field when thou reapest, neither shalt thou gather any Cleaning of thy harvest : *thou shalt leave them unto the "poor, and to the "stranger: I am the LORD your God.
Сторінка 38 - ... around me ; all nature seemed in profoundest rest, yet palpitating with a quiet pleasure : the stars thrilled with intense lustre in the azure sky ; the watch-fire now and then gleamed through the heavy foliage — its fragrance, for it was of cedar wood, stole gratefully over the tranced senses — And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seemed stirred with prayer.
Сторінка vii - But, to tell the truth, peasant-subjects suit my nature best, for I must confess, at the risk of your taking me to be a Socialist, that the human side is what touches me most in art, and that if I could only do what I like, or at least attempt to do it, I would paint nothing that was not the result of an impression directly received from Nature, whether in landscape or in figures. The joyous side never shows itself to me; I know not if it exists, but I have never seen it. The gayest thing I know...
Сторінка 1 - It is not my invention, and this expression - 'the cry of the ground' - was heard long ago. My critics are men of taste and instruction, I suppose, but I cannot put myself in their skin, and since I have never, in all my life, known anything but the fields, I try and say, as best I can, what I saw and felt when I worked there.
Сторінка 17 - ... provident husband. The woman looks like a good housewife. That shapely hand throwing the seed so deftly into the ground is well adapted to domestic tasks. We may easily identify our picture as a familiar scene in Millet's Barbizon surroundings. We are told that " upon all sides of Barbizon, save one, the plain stretches almost literally as far as the eye can reach," and presents " a generally level and open surface.

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