Louise Imogen GuineyMacmillan, 1921 - 111 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 6-10 із 18
Сторінка 50
... : 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 50.
... : 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 50.
Сторінка 57
... is an imper- ishable beauty of a lyric , fit for some ecstatic anthology , so rare in form and color that the listening ear scarce cares for the meaning , so its music may go on and on . " When on the marge of evening the last blue 57.
... is an imper- ishable beauty of a lyric , fit for some ecstatic anthology , so rare in form and color that the listening ear scarce cares for the meaning , so its music may go on and on . " When on the marge of evening the last blue 57.
Сторінка 62
... beauty to its archetype ; she had , to paraphrase her own words , " eternity in mind . " " Waiting on Him who knows us and our need , Most need have we to dare not , nor desire , But as He giveth , softly to suspire Against his gift ...
... beauty to its archetype ; she had , to paraphrase her own words , " eternity in mind . " " Waiting on Him who knows us and our need , Most need have we to dare not , nor desire , But as He giveth , softly to suspire Against his gift ...
Сторінка 65
... beauty wherewith we are surrounded and our hunger to which it will not , because it cannot , minister . This is great writing : for here the soul walks un- abashed , articulate , impassioned , the finite crying to the infinite , the ...
... beauty wherewith we are surrounded and our hunger to which it will not , because it cannot , minister . This is great writing : for here the soul walks un- abashed , articulate , impassioned , the finite crying to the infinite , the ...
Сторінка 65
... beauty wherewith we are surrounded and our Lunger to which it will not , because it cannot , minister . This is great writing : for here the soul walks un- abashed , articulate , impassioned the fnite crying to the infinite , the ...
... beauty wherewith we are surrounded and our Lunger to which it will not , because it cannot , minister . This is great writing : for here the soul walks un- abashed , articulate , impassioned the fnite crying to the infinite , the ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
adventure affectionate Aidôs arras Atalanta Auburndale austere beauty beguiling born brave breath bright century chantry Charles Lamb Chipping Campden comma dead dear delight despair destiny dull earth echoes Edmund Gosse England essays exquisite eyes fancy form and color genius gods grief Guiney's hand Hazlitt hear heart heaven heavenly Heraclitus hoyden immortal individual knew Knight Errant later less letters lineage Lionel Johnson literary Little English Gallery living Louise Guiney LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY lyric magic Mangan ment mind mortal Muse ness never night once so merry pagan passion Patrins poem poet poetry praise printing prose rain remembers rich riding road Robert Louis Stevenson says scholar sense sentience singing smile song sonnet soul spirit stanza sweet Thee things Thou Tusitala UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN Vaughan verse walking wild wind word writing wrote young youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 109 - 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 remember'd how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky...
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 61 - Take Temperance to thy breast, While yet is the hour of choosing, As arbitress exquisite Of all that shall thee betide; For better than fortune's best Is mastery in the using, And sweeter than anything sweet The art to lay it aside!
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 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?