Old-world Idylls and Other VersesKegan Paul, Trench, 1883 - 245 psl. |
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40 psl.
... tears of suppliance besought her Leave to immortalize a face so fair ; Praised and cajoled so craftily that straightway Voici Rosina , -standing at his gateway . Shy at the first , in time Rosina's laughter Rang through the studio as ...
... tears of suppliance besought her Leave to immortalize a face so fair ; Praised and cajoled so craftily that straightway Voici Rosina , -standing at his gateway . Shy at the first , in time Rosina's laughter Rang through the studio as ...
44 psl.
... tear - drop shone , Just for a second a dull feeling mocked him With a vague sense of something priceless gone ; Then , for at best ' twas but the empty type , The husk of man with which the days were ripe , Then , he forgot her ...
... tear - drop shone , Just for a second a dull feeling mocked him With a vague sense of something priceless gone ; Then , for at best ' twas but the empty type , The husk of man with which the days were ripe , Then , he forgot her ...
44 psl.
... tear - drop shone , Just for a second a dull feeling mocked him With a vague sense of something priceless gone ; Then , for at best ' twas but the empty type , The husk of man with which the days were ripe ,Then , he forgot her . But ...
... tear - drop shone , Just for a second a dull feeling mocked him With a vague sense of something priceless gone ; Then , for at best ' twas but the empty type , The husk of man with which the days were ripe ,Then , he forgot her . But ...
123 psl.
... Tears : I know his verses breathed A fine funereal air of biers , And objects cypress - wreathed ; Indeed , his tried acquaintance fled An ode he named " The Sheeted Dead . " In these light moods , I call to mind , THE MISOGYNIST . 123.
... Tears : I know his verses breathed A fine funereal air of biers , And objects cypress - wreathed ; Indeed , his tried acquaintance fled An ode he named " The Sheeted Dead . " In these light moods , I call to mind , THE MISOGYNIST . 123.
127 psl.
... not indifferently planned ; Note specially the gray old Guard , Who tears his tattered coat to wrap A closer bandage round the scarred And frozen comrade in his lap ; - But , as regards the present war , Now A VIRTUOSO . 127.
... not indifferently planned ; Note specially the gray old Guard , Who tears his tattered coat to wrap A closer bandage round the scarred And frozen comrade in his lap ; - But , as regards the present war , Now A VIRTUOSO . 127.
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Autonoë BABETTE BALLADE BARON BEAU BROCADE beauty Belle Marquise BEN JONSON bird blue Boucher bright eyes brows Caliph CHALCEDONY CIRCE comes COUNTESS Cupid's Alley dance dear DENISE DOLLY dream E'en eyes face fair fawn that seeks flowers FRANÇOIS BOUCHER FRANK grace gray grew hand heart Here's a present intended an Ode king more terrible kissed me to-day knew L'ÉTOILE laughing LAWRENCE lips London stones look Love Love's M'sieu Madam Maid Monsieur Muse myrtle twine Naught but myrtle NINETTE NINON o'er pale pipe Poets present for Rose PRINCESS Procris Pure song rhyme RONDEAU Rosina School of Coquettes seeks its mother shade sigh sing smile song Stand and Deliver stirred strange stray fawn sweet 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...
6 psl. - My Dear, I don't think that I thought of much Before we knew each other, I and you ; And now, why, John, your least, least Finger-touch Gives me enough to think a Summer through. See, for I send you something ! There...
161 psl. - 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.
219 psl. - WITH pipe and flute the rustic Pan Of old made music sweet for man ; And wonder hushed the warbling bird, And closer drew the calm-eyed herd, The rolling river slowlier ran. Ah ! would, ah ! would, a little span, Some air of Arcady could fan This age of ours, too seldom stirred With pipe and flute...
158 psl. - He is weary ! He shall rest for, at least, To-night ! " But at dawn, when the birds were waking, As they watched in the silent room, With the sound of a strained cord breaking, A something snapped in the gloom. 'Twas...
79 psl. - Merry and tragical ! tedious and brief ! That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord ? Phil. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long Which, is as brief as I have known a play ; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes...
184 psl. - To feel delight of living, and to plough The salt-blown acres of the shoreless deep; Better, yea better far all these than bow Foul faces to foul earth, and yearn as we do now ! " So they in speech unsyllabled. But She, The fair-tressed Goddess, born to be their bane, Uplifting straight her wand of ivory, Compelled them groaning to the styes again; Where they in hopeless bitterness were fain To rend the oaken woodwork as before, And tear the troughs in impotence of pain, Not knowing,...
6 psl. - This was the matter of the note, A long-forgot deposit, Dropped in an Indian dragon's throat, Deep in a fragrant closet, Piled with a dapper Dresden world, Beaux, beauties, prayers, and poses, Bonzes with squat legs undercurled, And great jars filled with roses. Ah, heart that wrote ! Ah, lips that kissed ! You had no thought or presage Into what keeping you dismissed Your simple old-world message ! A reverent one.
239 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose; But whenever a scent from the whitethorn blows, And the jasmine-stars to the casement climb, And a Rosalind-face at the lattice shows, Then hey!