The Procession of Masks
B.J. Brimmer Company, 1923 - 256 pagine
This lengthy volume is dedicated to educating readers about the various poetic styles and elements in the poetry of Emily Dickinson among others.??The author states that "in the poetry of Emily Dickinson, we overhear the solitary ejaculations of a personality whose last thought was an audience."
Cosa dicono le persone - Scrivi una recensione
Nessuna recensione trovata nei soliti posti.
Altre edizioni - Visualizza tutto
American Arthur Symons aspects assert atmosphere beauty brain cerebral character color contemporary criticism dark Dartmoor dead death declared delicate delight Dostoevski doubt Edwin Arlington Robinson Emily Dickinson English Enoch Soames essays existence eyes face fiction figures Furness Gauguin genius Georgian Gogh Gogh's Hardy Hearn heart Housman Hudson imagination influence J. C. Squire Jewish LAFCADIO HEARN letters literary literature living lyrical masks Max Beerbohm ment mind modern mood Mottke mysticism nature never novels observe passed passion Patchouli perhaps period Phillpotts picture play poems poet poetry praise prose Raskolnikoff reader Rembrandt Robinson Russian self-consciousness Shakespeare Sheila Kaye-Smith Sholom Asch Shropshire Lad spirit stories strange style Swinburne Swinburne's things Thomas Hardy thought tion tragedy Turgenev Uncle Moses utterance Variorum Victorian volume W. H. HUDSON Watts Dunton Widecombe Fair words writer written Yellow Nineties Yiddish young Younger
Pagina 48 - My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
Pagina 17 - ... side Vibrate with her seclusion. We tell you, tapping on our brows, The story as it should be, — As if the story of a house Were told, or ever could be ; We'll have no kindly veil between Her visions and those we have seen, — As if we guessed what hers have been, Or what they are or would be. Meanwhile we do no harm; for they That with a god have striven, Not hearing much of what we say, Take what the god has given; Though like waves breaking it may be, Or like a changed familiar tree, Or...
Pagina 183 - Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping, Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary, Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move, And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary, And all the little emptiness of love!
Pagina 29 - To-day the clouds are with him, but anon He'll out of 'em enough to shake the tree Of life itself and bring down fruit unheard-of — And, throwing in the bruised and whole together, Prepare a wine to make us drunk with wonder; And if he live, there'll be a sunset spell Thrown over him as over a glassed lake That yesterday was all a black wild water.
Pagina 17 - And others, knowing how this youth Would shine, if love could make him great, When caught and tortured for the truth Would only writhe and hesitate ; While she, arranging for his days What centuries could not fulfill, Transmutes him with her faith and praise, And has him shining where she will. She crowns him with her gratefulness, And says again that life is good ; And should the gift of God...
Pagina 171 - Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their drill, And all about the idle hill Shepherd your sheep with me. Oh stay with company and mirth And daylight and the air; Too full already is the grave Of fellows that were good and brave And died because they were.
Pagina 168 - EPITAPH I NEVER cared for Life : Life cared for me, And hence I owed it some fidelity. It now says, " Cease ; at length thou hast learnt to grind Sufficient toll for an unwilling mind, And I dismiss thee — not without regard That thou didst ask no ill-advised reward, Nor sought in me much. more than thou couldst find.
Pagina 48 - VE seen a dying eye Run round and round a room In search of something, as it seemed, Then cloudier become ; And then, obscure with fog, And then be soldered down, Without disclosing what it be, 'Twere blessed to have seen.
Pagina 114 - How grey it all was! hardly less so near at hand than on the hazewrapped horizon, where the hills were dim and the outline blurred by distance. Sometimes I would see the large eagle-like, whitebreasted buzzard, Buteo erythronotus, perched on the summit of a bush half a mile away; and so long as it would continue stationed motionless before me my eyes would remain involuntarily fixed on it, just as one keeps his eyes on a bright light shining in the gloom; for the whiteness of the hawk seemed to exercise...
Pagina 51 - It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bells Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh I felt siroccos crawl, Nor fire, for just my marble feet Could keep a chancel cool. And yet it tasted like them all...