The Sense of Beauty: Being the Outlines of Aesthetic Theory

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1896 - 275 pagine
 

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Pagina 105 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Pagina 237 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice...
Pagina 253 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep ! He hath awakened from the dream of life. 'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a charnel ; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
Pagina 136 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, •To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Pagina 170 - Ueber alien Gipfeln 1st Ruh, In alien Wipfeln Spiirest du Kaum einen Hauch ; Die Vogelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur, balde Ruhest du auch.
Pagina 51 - LIV. O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give ! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye, As the perfumed tincture of the roses ; Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses ; But, for their virtue* only is their show, They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade ; Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so ; Of their sweet...
Pagina 181 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! FANCY.
Pagina 67 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon; Manna and dates, in argosy transferred From Fez ; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
Pagina 237 - Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one, whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away, Richer than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinable gum...
Pagina 68 - Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an...

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