Vignettes in Rhyme and Vers de SociétéH.S. King, 1875 - 220 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 11
3 psl.
... dreams 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 ...
... dreams 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 ...
54 psl.
... covers , Nothing more the leaves reveal 1 ; Yet I love it for its lovers , - For the dream that round it hovers Of ' Savignac ' and ' Lucile . ' BEFORE SEDAN . ' The dead hand clasped a letter 54 A Revolutionary Relic .
... covers , Nothing more the leaves reveal 1 ; Yet I love it for its lovers , - For the dream that round it hovers Of ' Savignac ' and ' Lucile . ' BEFORE SEDAN . ' The dead hand clasped a letter 54 A Revolutionary Relic .
67 psl.
... undecided . Say , formose puer , Bent in a dream above the ' water wan , ' Shall we row higher , for the reeds are fewer , There by the pollards , where you see the swan ? JACK . Hist ! That's a pike . Look - AN AUTUMN IDYLL,
... undecided . Say , formose puer , Bent in a dream above the ' water wan , ' Shall we row higher , for the reeds are fewer , There by the pollards , where you see the swan ? JACK . Hist ! That's a pike . Look - AN AUTUMN IDYLL,
78 psl.
... dreams a ' local habitation ; Believe me , there are tuneless days , When neither marble , brass , nor vellum , Would profit much by any lays That haunt the poet's cerebellum . VI . More empty things , I fear , than 78 A Garden Idyll .
... dreams a ' local habitation ; Believe me , there are tuneless days , When neither marble , brass , nor vellum , Would profit much by any lays That haunt the poet's cerebellum . VI . More empty things , I fear , than 78 A Garden Idyll .
80 psl.
... swing in the metre ; Or else the zigzag fruit - tree arms Recall some dream of harp - prest bosoms , Round singing mouths , and chanted charms , And mediæval orchard blossoms , - X. Quite à la mode . Alas for prose , 80 A Garden Idyll .
... swing in the metre ; Or else the zigzag fruit - tree arms Recall some dream of harp - prest bosoms , Round singing mouths , and chanted charms , And mediæval orchard blossoms , - X. Quite à la mode . Alas for prose , 80 A Garden Idyll .
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ÆGROTUS art thou beautiful beaux Belle Marquise bird Boucher bright bright eyes Cephalus cerises cheek Cynics dance dead dear Dorothy dreams eyes face faded fair fancy fate feel feet fingers Flowers François Boucher FRANK garden gone grace gray grief grow hair hand HARVARD COLLEGE heart Heaven Humanum est errare JACK kissed knew Lady Lady's LAISSEZ FAIRE Lancet last year's nest LAWRENCE light lips look Love's Lucile maid Mournful mouth Muse NELLIE NOTE Nymphs once orchard wall pain pale Peeped Pipe Plato POET poor PROCRIS rest Rose Rosina round Savignac scarce seemed shade sing Sir Hue Slumbered smile soft SONG OF ANGIOLA soul Spring spurtle stirred sweet swinger tears tender thee thing thought thrush turned Twas twixt vers de société Vignettes in Rhyme VIII wait watch weary words youth
Populiarios ištraukos
83 psl. - FRANK. If I were you, when persons I affected, Wait for three hours to take me down to Kew, I would, at least, pretend I recollected, If I were you ! NELLIE. If I were you, when ladies are so lavish, Sir, as to keep me every waltz but two, I would not dance with odious Miss M'Tavish If I were you ! FRANK. If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer Whiff of the best,— the mildest "honey-dew," I would not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer, If I were you l NELLIE.
85 psl. - FRANK. No, — I remain. To stay and fight a duel Seems, on the whole, the proper thing to do — Ah, you are strong, — I would not then be cruel, If I were you ! NELLIE. One does not like one's feelings to be doubted, — FRANK.
59 psl. - When you enter in a room, It is stirred With the wayward, flashing flight Of a bird ; And you speak — and bring with you Leaf and sun-ray, bud and blue, And the wind-breath and the dew, At a word. When you called to me my name, Then again When I heard your single cry In the lane, All the sound was as the "sweet" Which the birds to birds repeat In their thank-song to the heat After rain.
17 psl. - Lie softly, Leisure ! Doubtless you, With too serene a conscience drew Your easy breath, and slumbered through The gravest issue ; But we, to whom our age allows Scarce space to wipe our weary brows, Look down upon your narrow house, Old friend, and miss you ! A GENTLEWOMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
16 psl. - Once he had loved, but failed to wed, A red-cheeked lass who long was dead; His ways were far too slow, he said, To quite forget her; And still when time had turned him gray, The earliest hawthorn buds in May Would find his lingering feet astray, Where first he met her. "In Colo Quies" heads the stone On Leisure's grave, — now little known, A tangle of wild-rose has grown So thick across it; The "Benefactions" still declare He left the clerk an elbow-chair, And "12 Pence Yearly to Prepare A Christmas...
136 psl. - if,' in truth — I can recall with what gay youth, To what light chorus, Unsobered yet by time or change, We roamed the many-gabled Grange, All life before us ; Braved the old clock-tower's dust and damp To catch the dim Arthurian camp In misty distance ; Peered at the still-room's sacred stores, Or rapped at walls for sliding doors Of feigned existence.
65 psl. - 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.
15 psl. - We read — alas, how much we read ! The jumbled strifes of creed and creed With endless controversies feed Our groaning tables ; His books — and they sufficed him — were Cotton's "Montaigne," "The Grave" of Blair, A "Walton" — much the worse for wear — And "^Esop's Fables.
13 psl. - His were the times of Paint and Patch, And yet no Ranelagh could match The sober doves that round his thatch Spread tails and sidled; He liked their ruffling, puffed content; For him their drowsy wheelings meant More than a Mall of Beaux that bent, Or Belles that bridled. Not that, in truth, when life began He shunned the flutter of the fan; He too had maybe " pinked his man " In Beauty's quarrel; But now his
114 psl. - Gyges' ship comes back. So with the rest. Who will may trace Behind the new each elder face Defined as clearly ; Science proceeds, and man stands still ; Our