Old-world Idylls, and Other VersesK. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Company, Limited, 1883 - 245 psl. |
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40 psl.
... pains , and fleeting pale contritions , Mute little moods of misery and wrong ; Only a child , of Nature's rarest making , Wistful and sweet , and with a heart for breaking ! H I Day after day the little loving creature Came and ...
... pains , and fleeting pale contritions , Mute little moods of misery and wrong ; Only a child , of Nature's rarest making , Wistful and sweet , and with a heart for breaking ! H I Day after day the little loving creature Came and ...
97 psl.
... painful truth - at times , to him , Whose jog - trot thought is nowise restive , " A primrose by a river's brim " Is absolutely unsuggestive . The fickle Muse ! As ladies will , She sometimes wearies of her wooer ; A goddess , yet a ...
... painful truth - at times , to him , Whose jog - trot thought is nowise restive , " A primrose by a river's brim " Is absolutely unsuggestive . The fickle Muse ! As ladies will , She sometimes wearies of her wooer ; A goddess , yet a ...
112 psl.
... a sun , has set ; And Ruth , Heaven bless her , Ruth that I wooed , and wooed in vain , Has gone where neither grief nor pain Can now distress her . DOROTHY . A REVERIE SUGGESTED BY THE NAME UPON A 112 VIGNETTES IN RHYME .
... a sun , has set ; And Ruth , Heaven bless her , Ruth that I wooed , and wooed in vain , Has gone where neither grief nor pain Can now distress her . DOROTHY . A REVERIE SUGGESTED BY THE NAME UPON A 112 VIGNETTES IN RHYME .
155 psl.
... pain nor ease , But death not yet . Outside a woman talked- His wife she was - whose clicking needles sped To faded phrases of complaint that balked My rising words of comfort . Overhead , A cage that hung amid the jasmine stars ...
... pain nor ease , But death not yet . Outside a woman talked- His wife she was - whose clicking needles sped To faded phrases of complaint that balked My rising words of comfort . Overhead , A cage that hung amid the jasmine stars ...
161 psl.
... . " Ah , if beside the dead Slumbered the pain ! Ah , if the hearts that bled Slept with the slain ! If the grief died ; But no ; Death will not have it so . M Ο THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE . A SKETCH IN A CEMETERY BEFORE SEDAN . 161.
... . " Ah , if beside the dead Slumbered the pain ! Ah , if the hearts that bled Slept with the slain ! If the grief died ; But no ; Death will not have it so . M Ο THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE . A SKETCH IN A CEMETERY BEFORE SEDAN . 161.
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Autonoë BABETTE BALLAD BEAU BROCADE beauty Beersheba Belle Marquise BEN JONSON bird blue Boucher bright eyes brows Caliph CHALCEDONY CIRCE COUNTESS Cupid's Alley dance dear DENISE DOLLY dream E'en eyes face fair fawn that seeks flowers FRANÇOIS BOUCHER FRANK grace gray hand heart Here's a present I-no intended an Ode king more terrible kissed me to-day knew L'ÉTOILE laughing LAWRENCE lips London stones look Love comes back Love's M'sieu Madam Maid Monsieur Muse myrtle twine Naught but myrtle NINETTE NINON o'er pale pipe and flute Poets present for Rose PRINCESS Procris Pure song rhyme RONDEAU Rosina School of Coquettes seeks its mother sigh sing smile song Stand and Deliver stirred stray fawn sweet teacup-times THEOCRITUS There's a tear thing thou thought thrush TRIOLETS turned Twas twixt VIEUXBOIS VILLANELLE watch weary wild and shy wind-flower yore
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236 psl. - ... his saints and his gilded stern-frames He had thought like an egg-shell to crack us ; .Now Howard may get to his Flaccus, And Drake to his Devon again, And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus For where are the galleons of Spain ? Let his Majesty hang to St. James The axe that he whetted to hack us ; He must play at some lustier games Or at sea he can hope to out-thwack us ; To his mines of Peru he would pack us To tug at his bullet and chain ; Alas ! that his Greatness should lack -us ! But...
214 psl. - Love comes back to his vacant dwelling The old, old Love that we knew of yore ! We see him stand by the open door, With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling. " He makes as though in our arms repelling He fain would lie, as he lay before ; Love comes back to his vacant dwelling...
104 psl. - My book in turn avers (No author's name is stated) That sometimes those Philosophers Are sadly mis-translated." " But hear, the next's in stronger style : The Cynic School asserted That two red lips which part and smile May not be controverted ! " She smiled once more "My book, I find, Observes some modern doctors Would make the Cynics out a .kind Of album-verse concoctors." Then I "Why not? ' Ephesian law, No less than time's tradition, Enjoined fair speech on all who saw Diana's apparition.
4 psl. - The fresher modern traces ; For idle mallet, hoop, and ball Upon the lawn were lying ; A magazine, a tumbled shawl, Round which the swifts were flying ; And, tossed beside the Guelder rose, A heap of rainbow knitting, Where, blinking in her pleased repose, A Persian cat was sitting. " A place to love in, live, for aye, If we too, like Tithonus, Could find some God to stretch the gray...
239 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose ; But whenever a scent from the whitethorn blows. And the jasmine-stars...
4 psl. - You'd surely say Some tea-board garden-maker Had planned it in Dutch William's day To please some florist Quaker, So trim it was. The yew-trees still, With pious care perverted, Grew in the same grim shapes ; and still The lipless dolphin spurted ; Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo ; And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow.
173 psl. - 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.
74 psl. - M. VIEUXBOIS (murmuring) Ah, PAUL ! ... old PAUL ! . . . EULALIE too ! And ROSE ! . . . And O ! ' the sky so blue ! ' BABETTE (sings) ' One had my Mother's eyes, Wistful and mild ; One had my Father's face ; One was a Child : All of them bent to me, Bent down and smiled ! ' (He is asleep !) M. VIEUXBOIS (almost inaudibly) How I forget ! I am so old ! . . . Good night, BABETTE ! 4.67.
161 psl. - ... died ; Message or wish, may be; 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.
135 psl. - So with the rest. Who will may trace "Behind the new each elder face Defined as clearly; Science proceeds, and man stands still; Our " world " today's as good or ill, As cultured (nearly), As yours was, Horace!