Select Poems of Sidney LanierC. Scribners̕ Sons, 1899 - 97 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 48
xvi psl.
... heart so that I could not banish them . Does it not seem to you as to me , that I begin to have the right to enroll myself among the devotees of these two sublime arts , after having followed them so long and so humbly , and through so ...
... heart so that I could not banish them . Does it not seem to you as to me , that I begin to have the right to enroll myself among the devotees of these two sublime arts , after having followed them so long and so humbly , and through so ...
xxi psl.
... Heart , ' were woven into the strings of a floral lyre ; and other flowers , likewise brought by personal friends , were grouped around the pedestal . As a memento a card , designed by Mrs. Henry Whitman , of Boston , was given to those ...
... Heart , ' were woven into the strings of a floral lyre ; and other flowers , likewise brought by personal friends , were grouped around the pedestal . As a memento a card , designed by Mrs. Henry Whitman , of Boston , was given to those ...
xxvii psl.
... heart in , head out ! Lo ! while thy heart's within , helping the choir , Without , thine eyes range up and down the time , Blinking at o'er - bright Science , smit with desire To see and not to see . Hence , crime on crime . Yea , if ...
... heart in , head out ! Lo ! while thy heart's within , helping the choir , Without , thine eyes range up and down the time , Blinking at o'er - bright Science , smit with desire To see and not to see . Hence , crime on crime . Yea , if ...
xxviii psl.
... heart - ' tis tired of head . " Then all the stringed instruments join with the violins in giving the wail of the poor , who " stand wedged by the pressing of Trade's hand : " " " We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns , We sieve ...
... heart - ' tis tired of head . " Then all the stringed instruments join with the violins in giving the wail of the poor , who " stand wedged by the pressing of Trade's hand : " " " We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns , We sieve ...
xxx psl.
... into a time during which I must get upon paper as many as possible of the poems with which my heart is stuffed like a schoolboy's pocket . " 3 The Symphony , 1. 368 . " Yea , it forgives me all my sins , XXX Introduction.
... into a time during which I must get upon paper as many as possible of the poems with which my heart is stuffed like a schoolboy's pocket . " 3 The Symphony , 1. 368 . " Yea , it forgives me all my sins , XXX Introduction.
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Select Poems of Sidney Lanier– Edited with an introd., notes, and ... Sidney Lanier Visos knygos peržiūra - 1895 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
agnosticism American April artist Atlanta Baltimore Bayard Taylor beauty Bibliography bird Boston Boy's Mabinogion breath Bust Century Magazine Chattahoochee chil'en child Clifford Lanier Clinton Scollard Constitution of October Corn dark death Dey's mightily Dinah doth English Novel English Verse eyes Fair Lady February flute Gates gates of sleep Georgia Gilman grace grass Hamish hath Hayne Hayne's heart heaven hills of Habersham Independent New York Introduction Jacquerie Johns Hopkins University King Arthur Lanier's poem Letter lines Literature Lord lover Mabinogion Maclean Macon Marshes of Glynn mocking-bird moral Muscadines o'er October 19 passion poet poet's poetry Power of Prayer prose rose Science of English shame Sidney Lanier sing Song soul Springs stanza Sunrise sweet Symphony ten-tined buck thee thine thou Tiger-lilies Trade tribute Uncle Dan'l valleys of Hall Ward's Memorial wife William Hayes Ward you's
Populiarios ištraukos
59 psl. - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
73 psl. - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
71 psl. - TO BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
35 psl. - High o'er the hills of Habersham, Veiling the valleys of Hall, The hickory told me manifold Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall Wrought me her shadowy self to hold, The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, These glades in the valleys of Hall.
46 psl. - INTO the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him : The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came.
34 psl. - Abide, abide, The willful waterweeds held me thrall, The laving laurel turned my tide, The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay, The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide. Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
xliv psl. - ... purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
xxxiii psl. - As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod, Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God : I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies : By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God : Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn.
xxviii psl. - We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns, We sieve mine-meshes under the hills, And thieve much gold from the Devil's bank tills. To relieve, O God, what manner of ills?— The beasts, they hunger, and eat, and die; And so do we, and the world's a sty; Hush, fellow-swine: why nuzzle and cry? Swinehood hath no remedy Say many men, and hasten by, Clamping the nose and blinking the eye.
40 psl. - Yon castle and lands to the two first hands that shall hook him and hold "Fast Hamish back from the brink!" — and ever she flies up the steep, And the clansmen pant, and they sweat, and they jostle and strain. But, mother, 'tis vain; but, father, 'tis vain; Stern Hamish stands bold on the brink, and dangles the child o'er the deep.