Lyric Forms from France: Their History and Their Use

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Harcourt, Brace, 1922 - 527 psl.
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370 psl. - That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe; To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
41 psl. - No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears, Of pain, darkness, and cold.
493 psl. - TELL me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman ? Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais, Neither of them the fairer woman? Where is Echo, beheld of no man, Only heard on river and mere, — She whose beauty was more than human? But where are the snows of yester-year?
370 psl. - In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead ; short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
68 psl. - Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe. That hast this wintres weders over-shake. And driven awey the longe nightes blake...
364 psl. - WHAT is to come we know not. But we know That what has been was good — was good to show, Better to hide, and best of all to bear. We are the masters of the days that were: We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered . . . even so. Shall we not take the ebb who had the flow ? Life was our friend. Now, if it be our foe — Dear, though it spoil and break us ! — need we care What is to come...
458 psl. - ave tried 'em all, The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world. Speakin' in general, I 'ave found them good For such as cannot use one bed too long, But must get 'ence, the same as I 'ave done, An' go observin' matters till they die. What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all — The different ways that different things are done, An' men an' women lovin' in this world — Takin' our chances as they come along, An...
493 psl. - Unto thy Son say thou that I am His, And to me graceless make Him gracious. Sad Mary of Egypt lacked not of that bliss, Nor yet the sorrowful clerk Theophilus, Whose bitter sins were set aside even thus Though to the Fiend his bounden service was. Oh help me, lest in vain for me should pass (Sweet Virgin that shalt have no loss thereby !) The blessed Host and sacring of the Mass. Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
160 psl. - Friend, earth is a harbour for winter, a covert whereunder to flee, When day is the vassal of night, and the strength of the hosts of her mightier than he ; But here is the presence adored of me, here my desire is at rest and at home, There are cliffs to be climbed upon land, there are ways to be trodden...
209 psl. - What bids the lids of thy sleep dispart ? Only the song of a secret bird. The green land's name that a charm encloses, It never was writ in the traveller's chart, And sweet on its trees as the fruit that grows is, It never was sold in the merchant's mart.

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