An Anthology of Prose & VerseJ.M. Dent & Sons Limited, 1922 - 173 psl. |
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xi psl.
... , he had a heart attack from which he never really recovered , and after a lingering illness , he passed peacefully away on the morning of 2 September 1921 . BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Austin Dobson was an honorary LL.D. of Edin- xi.
... , he had a heart attack from which he never really recovered , and after a lingering illness , he passed peacefully away on the morning of 2 September 1921 . BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Austin Dobson was an honorary LL.D. of Edin- xi.
2 psl.
... morning on their journey towards Gravesend , lying on straw under a tilt , and singing " St. John " and " Pishoken " to keep up their spirits . Or lower down again , at Rotherhithe , it is Henry Fielding , sick of many dis- eases , but ...
... morning on their journey towards Gravesend , lying on straw under a tilt , and singing " St. John " and " Pishoken " to keep up their spirits . Or lower down again , at Rotherhithe , it is Henry Fielding , sick of many dis- eases , but ...
9 psl.
... morning to see Mr. Frederick Locker , at whose house I was breakfasting ; and he was at once invited to join the party . He died on February 1 , 1878 , aged eighty - six . Writing his life , Mr. Blanchard Jerrold , at Mr. Locker's ...
... morning to see Mr. Frederick Locker , at whose house I was breakfasting ; and he was at once invited to join the party . He died on February 1 , 1878 , aged eighty - six . Writing his life , Mr. Blanchard Jerrold , at Mr. Locker's ...
18 psl.
... morning , as if asleep . " The other , at St. Emilion , " loses his senses for several days . " He , too , tracked from place to place , and wandering away from his pursuers , is found at last in a cornfield near Castillon , half ...
... morning , as if asleep . " The other , at St. Emilion , " loses his senses for several days . " He , too , tracked from place to place , and wandering away from his pursuers , is found at last in a cornfield near Castillon , half ...
27 psl.
... morning , Is not so fresh as hers . The ladies of St. James's ! They're painted to the eyes ; Their white it stays for ever , Their red it never dies : But Phyllida , my Phyllida ! Her colour comes and goes ; It trembles to a lily ...
... morning , Is not so fresh as hers . The ladies of St. James's ! They're painted to the eyes ; Their white it stays for ever , Their red it never dies : But Phyllida , my Phyllida ! Her colour comes and goes ; It trembles to a lily ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
An Anthology of Prose Verse With a Foreword by Edmund Gosse (Classic Reprint) Austin Dobson Peržiūra negalima - 2015 |
An Anthology of Prose Verse With a Foreword by Edmund Gosse (Classic Reprint) Austin Dobson Peržiūra negalima - 2018 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
appearance artist Austin Dobson BAILLI DE SUFFREN BEAU BROCADE Beauty BERTOLINI'S birds called Chatterton Chatto & Windus Cupid's Alley dance DEAD LETTER DEAR PRUE DENISE DUKE OF NIVERNAIS Eighteenth Century Vignettes ELIZABETH eyes Fielding's flowers Four Frenchwomen French garden gentleman GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE GENTLEWOMAN GEORGE the Guard gray green hand heart HENRY FIELDING Hogarth HORACE WALPOLE Horace Walpole-A Memoir IDYLL James's John Johnson Kegan Paul King more terrible knew lady large paper edition Later Essays laughed London look Lord Love's loves M'sieu Macaulay MADAME DE GENLIS Madame du Deffand Megalopolis Molly Trefusis never Nivernais OLD SCHOOL OLIVER GOLDSMITH once Phyllida poems PRINCESS Queen RALPH ALLEN RICHARD STEELE Rosalba's Journal Rose Royal SAMUEL RICHARDSON Second edition smile Somerset House Spectator Steele's Street SUNDIAL Tatler terrible than Death things THOMAS BEWICK tion took Trubner verses VIEUXBOIS Voltaire volumes Walpole's writer
Populiarios ištraukos
27 psl. - Wear satin on their backs; They sit all night at Ombre, With candles all of wax: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! She dons her russet gown, And runs to gather May dew Before the world is down.
142 psl. - A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips ; Sing red, red roses, And my Love's lips. When Autumn scatters The leaves again, And piled sheaves bury The broad-wheeled wain, Sing flutes of harvest Where men...
32 psl. - And a pinch from the Cure's box. There is also a word that no one heard To the furrier's daughter Lou; And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red, And a "Bon Dieu, garde m'sieu...
113 psl. - He had sworn for a year he would sack us; With an army of heathenish names He was coming to fagot and stack us; Like the thieves of the sea he would track us, And shatter our ships on the main; But we had bold Neptune to back us, And where are the galleons of Spain?
108 psl. - You had no thought or presage Into what keeping you dismissed Your simple old-world message! A reverent one. Though we to-day Distrust beliefs and powers, The artless, ageless things you say Are fresh as May's own flowers, Starring some pure primeval spring, Ere Gold had grown despotic, Ere Life was yet a selfish thing, Or Love a mere exotic!
14 psl. - He liked the drone of flies among His netted peaches ; He liked to watch the sunlight fall Athwart his ivied orchard wall ; Or pause to catch the cuckoo's call Beyond the beeches. His were the times of Paint and Patch, And yet no Ranelagh could match The sober doves that round his thatch Spread tails and sidled ; He liked their ruffling, puffed content, For him their drowsy wheelings meant More than a Mall of Beaux that bent, Or Belles that bridled. Not that, in truth, when life began He shunned...
123 psl. - Smooth the folds out and see. Hardly the worst of us Here could have smiled! Only the tremulous Words of a child; Prattle, that has for stops Just a few ruddy drops. Look. She is sad to miss, Morning and night, His - her dead father's - kiss; Tries to be bright, Good to mamma, and sweet. That is all. 'Marguerite.
147 psl. - Kill not for Pity's sake and lest ye slay The meanest thing upon its upward way. Give freely and receive, but take from none By greed, or force or fraud, what is his own. Bear not false witness, slander not, nor lie ; Truth is the speech of inward purity. Shun drugs and drinks which work the wit abuse ; Clear minds, clean bodies, need no Soma juice.
112 psl. - KING PHILIP had vaunted his claims ; He had sworn for a year he would sack us, With an army of heathenish names He was coming to fagot and stack us ; Like the thieves of the sea he would track us, And...
12 psl. - I refrain to quote from Walpole regarding George for those charming volumes are in the hands of all who love the gossip of the last century. Nothing can be more cheery than Horace's letters. Fiddles sing all through them : wax-lights, fine dresses, fine jokes, fine plate, fine equipages, glitter and sparkle there : never was such a brilliant, jigging, smirking Vanity Fair as that through which he leads us.