The Poets and the Poetry of the Nineteenth Century, 6 tomas

Priekinis viršelis
G. Routledge, 1905

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6 psl. - THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG. and the Fall of the Niblungs.
302 psl. - They drive adrift, and whither They wot not who make thither; But no such winds blow hither, And no such things grow here. No growth of moor or coppice, No heather-flower or vine, But bloomless buds of poppies, Green grapes of Proserpine, Pale beds of blowing rushes Where no leaf blooms or blushes, Save this whereout she crushes For dead men deadly wine.
294 psl. - Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath; We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death. Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet for a day; But love grows bitter with treason, and laurel outlives not May.
290 psl. - For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, 30 And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
19 psl. - THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS HAD she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss? Yea, had she borne the dirt and rain That her own eyes might see him slain Beside the haystack in the floods?
292 psl. - A time for labor and thought, A time to serve and to sin; They gave him light in his ways, And love, and a space for delight. And beauty and length of days, And night, and sleep in the night.
17 psl. - GOLD on her head, and gold on her feet, And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, And a golden girdle round my sweet; — Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
291 psl. - And dust of the laboring earth; And bodies of things to be In the houses of death and of birth; And wrought with weeping and laughter, And fashioned with loathing and love, With life before and after, And death beneath and above, For a day and a night and a morrow, That his strength might endure for a span, With travail and heavy sorrow, The holy spirit of man.
329 psl. - Heart handfast in heart as they stood, "Look thither," Did he whisper? "look forth from the flowers to the sea; For the foam-flowers endure when the rose-blossoms wither, And men that love lightly may die — but we?
72 psl. - Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay, But one and all if they would dusk the day.

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