Poems of Sidney LanierC. Scribners Sons, 1884 - 252 psl. |
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xi psl.
... give but a sketch of his life and work . Sidney Lanier was born at Macon , Ga . , on the third of February , 1842. His earliest known ances- tor of the name was Jerome Lanier , a Huguenot refugee , who was attached to the court of Queen ...
... give but a sketch of his life and work . Sidney Lanier was born at Macon , Ga . , on the third of February , 1842. His earliest known ances- tor of the name was Jerome Lanier , a Huguenot refugee , who was attached to the court of Queen ...
xvi psl.
... give for cultivating it ; how Christ inveighed against it , and how its shades are damp and its odors unhealthy ; and what a fine specimen was grown the other day in North America . by " two wealthy landed proprietors , who combined all ...
... give for cultivating it ; how Christ inveighed against it , and how its shades are damp and its odors unhealthy ; and what a fine specimen was grown the other day in North America . by " two wealthy landed proprietors , who combined all ...
xix psl.
... give himself to music and literature so long as he could keep death at bay , he sought a land of books . Taking his flute and his pen for sword and staff , he turned his face northward . After visiting New York he made his home in Balti ...
... give himself to music and literature so long as he could keep death at bay , he sought a land of books . Taking his flute and his pen for sword and staff , he turned his face northward . After visiting New York he made his home in Balti ...
xxi psl.
... give his household a humble support it was not easy for the most strenuous young author to win by his pen in the intervals between his hemorrhages . He asked for very little , only the supply of absolute ne- cessities , what it would be ...
... give his household a humble support it was not easy for the most strenuous young author to win by his pen in the intervals between his hemorrhages . He asked for very little , only the supply of absolute ne- cessities , what it would be ...
xxvii psl.
... give myself some freedom in my own peculiar style , and have allowed myself to treat words , similes , and metres with such freedom as I desired . The result convinces me that I can do so now safely . " Among his poems of this period ...
... give myself some freedom in my own peculiar style , and have allowed myself to treat words , similes , and metres with such freedom as I desired . The result convinces me that I can do so now safely . " Among his poems of this period ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
A. P. Hill Æschylus ALABAMA Baby Charley BALTIMORE beauty Beethoven blue Brain breath burn calm CEDARCROFT cloud corn cried dark dawn dead dear death Dey's mightily Dinah doth dream e'er earth eyes fain fair Fair Lady faith flame fool France gaze GEORGIA grass grave grief Gris Grillon Habersham Hamish hand hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly heerd hell hills hound JACQUERIE King kiss Lady land Lanier leapt light lips look Lord Raoul MACON marsh marshes of Glynn morn never night nine from eight Nirvâna o'er pain passion poem poet PRATTVILLE quoth Love rose round sail Santa Claus shame shine Sidney Lanier sigh smile song soul stars stood sweet tears thar thee thine tree twixt villeins violet wave West wife wild WILLIAM HAYES WARD wind wing wrought
Populiarios ištraukos
151 psl. - Evening Song Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea; How long they kiss, in sight of all the lands! Ah, longer, longer, we. Now in the sea's red vintage melts the sun, As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine, And Cleopatra Night drinks all. 'Tis done! Love, lay thine hand in mine. Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort Heaven's heart; Glimmer, ye waves, round else unlighted sands; O Night, divorce our sun and sky apart Never our lips, our hands.
250 psl. - Long as thine Art shall love true love, Long as thy Science truth shall know, Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove, Long as thy Law by law shall grow, Long as thy God is God above, Thy brother every man below, So long, dear Land of all my love, Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow!
6 psl. - Will break as a bubble o'er-blown in a dream, Yon dome of too-tenuous tissues of space and of night, Over-weighted with stars, over-freighted with light, Over-sated with beauty and silence, will seem But a bubble that broke in a dream, If a bound of degree to this grace be laid, Or a sound or a motion made.
34 psl. - Drew leaping to burn-ward; huskily rose His shouts, and his nether lip twitched, and his legs were o'er-weak for his will. So the deer darted lightly by Hamish and bounded away to the burn. But Maclean never bating his watch tarried waiting below...
xxxvi psl. - Let any sculptor hew us out the most ravishing combination of tender curves and spheric softness that ever stood for woman ; yet if the lip have a certain fulness that hints of the flesh, if the brow be insincere, if in the minutest particular the physical beauty suggest a moral ugliness, that sculptor unless he be portraying a moral ugliness for a moral purpose may as well give over his marble for paving-stones.
14 psl. - But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest, And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West, And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream...
24 psl. - OUT of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again...
141 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. Out of the woods my Master went, And He was well content. Out of the woods my Master came, Content with death and shame. When Death and Shame would woo Him last, From under the trees they drew Him last: 'Twas on a tree they slew Him ...
51 psl. - OF fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, Complain no more ; for these, O heart, Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute's...