Poems on Several Occasions, 1 tomasK. Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1895 |
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4 psl.
... 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 4 OLD - WORLD IDYLLS .
... 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 4 OLD - WORLD IDYLLS .
6 psl.
... round and catch them at the Gate , All to Ourselves , for nearly one long Mile ; Dear Prue won't look , and Father he ' ll go on , And Sam's two Eyes are all for Cissy , John ! " John , she's so smart , -with every Ribbon new , Flame ...
... round and catch them at the Gate , All to Ourselves , for nearly one long Mile ; Dear Prue won't look , and Father he ' ll go on , And Sam's two Eyes are all for Cissy , John ! " John , she's so smart , -with every Ribbon new , Flame ...
10 psl.
... a brown old Brunswick coat , With silver buttons , round his throat , - A soft cravat ; in all you note - An elder fashion , - - A strangeness , which , to us who shine In IO OLD - WORLD IDYLLS . A Gentleman of the Old School.
... a brown old Brunswick coat , With silver buttons , round his throat , - A soft cravat ; in all you note - An elder fashion , - - A strangeness , which , to us who shine In IO OLD - WORLD IDYLLS . A Gentleman of the Old School.
11 psl.
... . His were the times of Paint and Patch , And yet no Ramelagh could match The sober doves that round his thatch Spread tails and sidled ; He liked their ruffling , puffed content , - For II A GENTLEMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL .
... . His were the times of Paint and Patch , And yet no Ramelagh could match The sober doves that round his thatch Spread tails and sidled ; He liked their ruffling , puffed content , - For II A GENTLEMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL .
31 psl.
... round your knees Thick as bees , Mute at every word you utter , Servants to your least frill flutter , " Belle Marquise ! " As you sit there growing prouder , And your ringed hands glance and go , And your fan's frou - frou sounds ...
... round your knees Thick as bees , Mute at every word you utter , Servants to your least frill flutter , " Belle Marquise ! " As you sit there growing prouder , And your ringed hands glance and go , And your fan's frou - frou sounds ...
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ÆGROTUS Autonoë BABETTE backswords BALLAD BEAU BROCADE beauty Belle Marquise bird Boucher brows Burbadge played Caliph Carlo Vanloo CHALCEDONY chalumeau CLAUDE TILLIER Cupid's Alley dance Davus dead dear DENISE Dorothy dream dust e'en Embarquons-nous ENVOY eyes face fain fair fate fawn that seeks François Boucher FRANK grace gray hand heart intended an Ode KENSINGTON GARDENS King more terrible kissed me to-day knew last year's nest London stones look Love's Maid Muse Naught but myrtle NELLIE NINETTE NINON o'er Odysseus once pipe and flute Poets poor present for Rose PRINCESS PROCRIS Pure song ring-dove saw you last School of Coquettes shade sigh Sing slower pen smile song stays stirred strange stray fawn sweet terrible than Death thee THEOCRITUS THEOPHILE GAUTIER thine thing thou thought Thrush turned Twas twixt VIEUXBOIS watched weary wind-flower yore
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223 psl. - OVE 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...
214 psl. - ARS VICTRIX. (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER.) "WES ; when the ways oppose When the hard means rebel, Fairer the work out-grows, More potent far the spell. O POET, then, forbear The loosely-sandalled verse, Choose rather thou to wear The buskin strait and terse; Leave to the tiro's hand The limp and shapeless style ; See that thy form demand The labour of the file. SCULPTOR, do thou discard The yielding clay, consign To Paros marble hard The beauty of thy line ; Model thy Satyr's...
163 psl. - Tis but another dead ; All you can say is said. Carry his body hence, Kings must have slaves ; Kings climb to eminence Over men's graves : So this man's eye is dim ; Throw the earth over him. What was the white you touched, There, at his side ? Paper his hand had clutched Tight ere he died ; Message or wish, may be ; Smooth the folds out and see.
177 psl. - A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS. WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil, Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long, Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips ; Sing red, red roses, And my Love's lips.
164 psl. - Throw the earth over him. What was the white you touched, There, at his side? Paper his hand had clutched Tight ere he died; Message or wish, may be; Smooth the folds out and see. Hardly the worst of us Here could have smiled! 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. "Marguerite.
74 psl. - MONSIEUR VIEUXBOIS. BABETTE. M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously.) Day of my life ! Where can she get ? BABETTE ! I say ! BABETTE ! BABETTE ! ! BABETTE (entering hurriedly.) Coming, M'sieu' ! If M'sieu' speaks So loud, he wont be well for weeks ! M.
243 psl. - Thou sang'st the simple feasts of old, The beechen bowl made glad with wine . . Thine was the happier Age of Gold. Thou bad'st the rustic loves be told, Thou bad'st the tuneful reeds combine, O Singer of the field and fold ! And round thee, ever-laughing, rolled The blithe and blue Sicilian brine . . Thine was the happier Age of Gold. Alas for us ! Our songs are cold ; Our Northern suns too sadly shine : O Singer of the field and fold, Thine was the happier Age of Gold ! 1880. "TU NE...
102 psl. - TFI were you, when ladies at the play, sir, Beckon and nod, a melodrama through, I would not turn abstractedly away, sir, If I were you ! 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.
249 psl. - CHICKEN-SKIN, delicate, white, ^-' Painted by Carlo Vanloo, Loves in a riot of light, Roses and vaporous blue; Hark to the dainty frou-frou ! Picture above, if you can, Eyes that could melt as the dew, This was the Pompadour's fan ! See how they rise at the sight, Thronging the...