Questions at IssueAppleton, 1893 - 333 стор. |
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admirable America beautiful Besant better called candidates century charm Chaucer contemporaries cracy criticism curious delightful democratic doubt Dryden Emerson England English poets essays exquisite fame fancy favourite fiction François Coppée genius George Meredith George Sand honour impression India influence of democracy intellectual interest Keats Kipling Kipling's lady less Light that Failed literary literature living Longfellow Lord Lytton lyrical Mallarmé master Matthew Arnold memory merit modern Mulvaney naturalistic nature never novel novelists passion perhaps persons poems poet poetic poetry Pope popular present produced prose published question readers realistic reputation Robert Browning romance Rudyard Kipling scarcely seems Shelley soldier spirit STÉPHANE MALLARMÉ Stevenson stories style success taste Tennyson thing tion to-day vast verse Victor Hugo volume Warnham Wee Willie Winkie Wordsworth writer young Zola
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Сторінка 188 - Thou shalt be seen (Though with some short parenthesis between) High on the throne of wit; and seated there, Not mine (that's little) but thy laurel wear. Thy first attempt an early promise made; That early promise this has more than paid. So bold, yet so judiciously you dare, That your least praise is to be regular.
Сторінка 85 - Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, Through love and thought, through power and dream. Musketaquit, a goblin strong, Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; They lose their grief who hear his song, And where he winds is the day of day. So forth and brighter fares my stream, — Who drink it shall not thirst again; No darkness stains its equal gleam, And ages drop in it like rain.
Сторінка 262 - Plain Tales from the Hills, Soldiers Three, The Story of the Gadsbys, In Black and White, Under the Deodars, The Phantom Rickshaw, and Wee Willie Winkie.
Сторінка 259 - O early ripe! to thy abundant store What could advancing age have added more? It might (what Nature never gives the young) Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue.
Сторінка 230 - Perhaps if he selects one lily from the garth of lilies, one benign and beneficent yielder of her cup to thirsty lips, the memory, the ever-receding memory, may be forced back. So, when he has glutted upon a bunch of grapes, he is wont to toss the empty skins into the air and blow them out in a visionary greediness. But no, the delicious hour grows vaguer; experience or dream, he will now never know which it was.
Сторінка 288 - Only women understand children thoroughly; but if a mere man keeps very quiet, and humbles himself properly, and refrains from talking down to his superiors, the children will sometimes be good to him and let him see what they think about the world.
Сторінка 231 - Eux, comme un vil sursaut d'hydre oyant jadis l'ange Donner un sens plus pur aux mots de la tribu Proclamèrent très haut le sortilège bu Dans le flot sans honneur de quelque noir mélange.
Сторінка 251 - SAY not of me that weakly I declined The labours of my sires, and fled the sea, The towers we founded and the lamps we lit, To play at home with paper like a child. But rather say: In the afternoon of time A strenuous family dusted from its hands The sand of granite, and beholding far Along the sounding coast its pyramids And tall memorials catch the dying sun, Smiled well content, and to this childish task Around the fire addressed its evening hours.
Сторінка 247 - MY tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky ; It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by ; For every night at teatime and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be; But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm to do, O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
Сторінка 241 - AT evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.