The Magazine of Poetry, 2 tomas

Priekinis viršelis
Charles Wells Moulton, 1890
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189 psl. - And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, ' Stay spur 1 Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix...
189 psl. - for Aix is in sight!" " How they'll greet us !" — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
83 psl. - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
192 psl. - There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is naught, is silence implying sound; What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
238 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, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall. All down the hills of Habersham, All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried Abide, abide...
190 psl. - We that had loved him so, followed him, honored him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents. Made him our pattern to live and to die. Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us ; they watch from their graves : He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves.
453 psl. - Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day by day, You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget...
190 psl. - Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part— the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again!
97 psl. - It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares, — And the sweet white brow is all of her.
191 psl. - Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll Freshening and fluttering in the wind. Past hopes already lay behind. What need to strive with a life awry ? Had I said that, had I done this, So might I gain, so might I miss. Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell ! Where had I been now if the worst befell ? And here we are riding, she and I. Fail I alone, in words and deeds ? Why, all men strive and who succeeds...

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