The Poetry and Philosophy of George Meredith

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A. Constable, Limited, 1906 - 234 pagine

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Pagina 151 - 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. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
Pagina 114 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years...
Pagina 154 - DIRGE IN WOODS A WIND sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead ; They are quiet, as under the sea.
Pagina 62 - On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Pagina 36 - All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose; Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands. My sweet leads : she knows not why, but now she loiters, Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands.
Pagina 46 - Watching to catch the languid close Of the last strain, then lifts on high The wings of the weak melody, Till some new strain of feeling bear o The.
Pagina 144 - THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN ENTER these enchanted woods, You who dare. Nothing harms beneath the leaves More than waves a swimmer cleaves. Toss your heart up with the lark, Foot at peace with mouse and worm, Fair you fare. Only at a dread of dark Quaver, and they quit their form: Thousand eyeballs under hoods Have you by the hair. Enter these enchanted woods, You who dare.
Pagina 40 - Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow : Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moonrise, Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow. Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree Gazes in this whiteness : nightlong could I. Here may life on death or death on life be painted. Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die ! Gossips count her faults ; they scour a narrow chamber Where there is no window, read not heaven or her. ' When she was a tiny,' one aged woman quavers, Plucks...
Pagina 141 - And bathed every veyne in swich licour. Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes...
Pagina 32 - We saw the swallows gathering in the sky, And in the osier-isle we heard them noise. We had not to look back on summer joys, Or forward to a summer of bright dye : But in the largeness of the evening earth Our spirits grew as we went side by side. The hour became her husband and my bride.

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