Old-world Idylls: And Other VersesK. Paul, Trench, 1885 - 245 psl. |
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11 psl.
... words of praise Caressed the angler's easy ways , His idly meditative days , - His rustic diet . Not that his " meditating " rose Beyond a sunny summer doze ; He never troubled his repose With fruitless prying ; But held , as law for ...
... words of praise Caressed the angler's easy ways , His idly meditative days , - His rustic diet . Not that his " meditating " rose Beyond a sunny summer doze ; He never troubled his repose With fruitless prying ; But held , as law for ...
17 psl.
... word Was for the erring . If she had loved , or if she kept Some ancient memory green , or wept Over the shoulder - knot that slept Within her cuff - box , I know not . Only this I know , At sixty - five she'd still her beau , A lean ...
... word Was for the erring . If she had loved , or if she kept Some ancient memory green , or wept Over the shoulder - knot that slept Within her cuff - box , I know not . Only this I know , At sixty - five she'd still her beau , A lean ...
26 psl.
... hand at her pocket - side . So never a word he spoke as yet , For he thought ' twas a freak of MEG or BET ; A freak of the " Rose " or the " Rummer " set . Out - spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid , ( Tremulous now 26 OLD - WORLD IDYLLS .
... hand at her pocket - side . So never a word he spoke as yet , For he thought ' twas a freak of MEG or BET ; A freak of the " Rose " or the " Rummer " set . Out - spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid , ( Tremulous now 26 OLD - WORLD IDYLLS .
30 psl.
... 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 louder , And your " beaux yeux " flash and glow ...
... 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 louder , And your " beaux yeux " flash and glow ...
57 psl.
... word , I think . But where , - Where is my paper ? Ah ! ' tis there ! [ Exit . Eh ! what ? ( Reads . ) THE METAMORPHOSIS . ( not in Ovid . ) " The Shepherdess Dorine adored The Shepherd - Boy Clitander ; But Jove himself , Olympus ...
... word , I think . But where , - Where is my paper ? Ah ! ' tis there ! [ Exit . Eh ! what ? ( Reads . ) THE METAMORPHOSIS . ( not in Ovid . ) " The Shepherdess Dorine adored The Shepherd - Boy Clitander ; But Jove himself , Olympus ...
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ÆGROTUS Autonoë BABETTE BALLAD BARON battle of Malplaquet BEAU BROCADE beauty Belle Marquise bird blue Boucher bright bright eyes brow Caliph CHALCEDONY CLAUDE TIllier comes COUNTESS Cupid's Alley Cynics dance dead dear DENISE Dorothy dream e'en eyes face faded fair feet flowers FRANÇOIS BOUcher FRANK garden GEORGE the Guard gone grace gray green grew hair hand heart HORTENSE kissed knew L'ÉTOILE last year's nest laughing LAWRENCE lips London stones look Louis-d'or Love Love's M'sieu Madam Maid Monsieur Muse NELLIE NINETTE NINON o'er once pale pipe Poets poor PRINCESS Procris Pure song rhyme ringdoves RONDEAU Rose Rosina round shade Shepherdess Dorine adored sigh Sing smile song stirred strange sweet tears THEOCRITUS There's thing thou thought thrush to-day turned Twas twixt VIEUXBOIS VILLANELLE Ville-d'Avray voice watch weary wind-flower word yore
Populiarios ištraukos
212 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...
19 psl. - BEAU BROCADE." " Hark ! I hear the sound of coaches / " BEGGAR'S OPERA SEVENTEEN hundred and thirty-nine : That was the date of this tale of mine. First great GEORGE was buried and gone ; GEORGE the Second was plodding on. LONDON then, as the " Guides " aver, Shared its glories with Westminster ; And people of rank, to correct their " tone," Went out of town to Marybone.
159 psl. - 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.
5 psl. - A place to love in, live, for aye, If we too, like Tithonus, Could find some God to stretch the gray, Scant life the Fates have thrown us ; " But now by steam we run our race, With buttoned heart and pocket ; Our Love 'sa gilded, surplus grace, Just like an empty locket ! '"The time is out of joint. ' Who will, May strive to make it better ; For me, this warm old window-sill, And this old dusty letter.
4 psl. - 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, Where, blinking in her pleased repose, A Persian cat was sitting. " A place to love in, live, for aye, If we too, like Tithonus, Could find some God to stretch the gray, Scant life the Fates have thrown us; " But now by steam we run our race, With buttoned heart and pocket ;...
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. Though we to-day...
109 psl. - Shy Ruth, all heart and tenderness, Who wept like Chaucer's Prioress, When Dash was smitten ; Who blushed before the mildest men, Yet waxed a very Corday when You teased her kitten. I loved them all. Bell first and best ; Louise the next for days of jest Or madcap masking; And Ruth, I thought, why, failing these, When my High-Mightiness should please, She'd come for asking.
234 psl. - ... 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 where are...
221 psl. - WHEN I saw you last, Rose, You were only so high; How fast the time goes! Like a bud ere it blows, You just peeped at the sky, When I saw you last, Rose!
4 psl. - So trim it was. The yew-trees still, With pious care perverted, Grew in the same grim shapes ; and still The lipless dolphin spurted ; Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo ; And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow.