Men, Women and GhostsMacmillan, 1916 - 363 pagine |
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agin ain't AMY LOWELL Bang be'n beat blow blue bohemian glass Boom breeze bright burning burning-glass candle Charlotta clouds cold colours Cremona crimson Cuckoo dance Dear dies iræ door dropped dust ears eyes fall feet fire flame flashing flowers flutter Frau Altgelt garden Gervase glass glitter goin gold green grey guess hammers hand hang head heart Heinrich hoop Idomeneo knock Lady Eunice leaves light little boy locket looked Lord Lotta Malamocco Malmaison marble arch Minna Monsieur moon moonlight mornin never night nothin petals pink Place du Carrousel play port wine Priest rain rose round shadows shining shuttlecock silver slowly smell soldiers somethin sparks Spruggins Stella stone stream street sunlight sunshine Theodore Ther warn't thing thought Tilbury trees Twas twist vers libre violin watched wheels William Blake wind window yellow
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Pagina 4 - My dress is richly figured, And the train Makes a pink and silver stain On the gravel, and the thrift Of the borders. Just a plate of current fashion, Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes. Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whale-bone and brocade. And I sink on a seat in the shade Of a lime tree. For my passion Wars against the stiff brocade. The daffodils and squills Flutter in the breeze As they please. And I weep; For the lime tree is in blossom And one small flower has dropped upon...
Pagina 321 - ... bless ye the Lord : O ye light and darkness, bless ye the Lord. O ye lightnings and clouds, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O let the earth bless the Lord : yea, let it praise him, and magnify him for ever.
Pagina 3 - PATTERNS I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden-paths In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jewelled fan, I too am a rare Pattern. As I wander down The garden paths.
Pagina 8 - On this shady seat. He had a whim That sunlight carried blessing. And I answered, " It shall be as you have said.
Pagina 9 - In my stiff, brocaded gown. The squills and daffodils Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow. I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed. And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace By each button, hook, and lace. For the man who should loose me is dead, Fighting with the Duke in Flanders, In a pattern called a war. Christ! What are patterns for?
Pagina 154 - Brown, And yellow streaked with brown. Blue-black, the sky over Venice, With a pricking of yellow stars. There is no moon, And the waves push darkly against the prow Of the gondola, Coming from Malamocco And streaming toward Venice. It is black under the gondola hood, But the yellow of a satin dress Glares out like the eye of a watching tiger. Yellow compassed about with darkness, Yellow and black, Gorgeous — barbaric. The boatman sings, It is Tasso that he sings; The lovers seek each other beneath...
Pagina 230 - A fountain tosses itself up at the blue sky, and through the spattered water in the basin he can see copper carp, lazily floating among cold leaves. A wind-harp in a cedar-tree grieves and whispers, and words blow into his brain, bubbled, iridescent, shooting up like flowers of fire, higher and higher. Boom! The flame-flowers snap on their slender stems. The fountain rears up in long broken spears of dishevelled water and flattens into the earth. Boom! And there is only the room, the table, the candle,...
Pagina 321 - Him, and magnify Him for ever. 0 ye Angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise Him, and magnify Him for ever.
Pagina 230 - It rustles at the window-pane, — the smooth, streaming rain, and he is shut within its clash and murmur. Inside is his candle, his table, his ink, his pen, and his dreams. He is thinking, and the walls are pierced with beams of sunshine, slipping through young green. A fountain tosses itself up at the blue sky, and through the spattered water in the basin he can see copper carp, lazily floating among cold leaves. A wind-harp in a cedar-tree grieves and whispers, and words blow into his brain, bubbled,...
Pagina 145 - The throats of the little red trumpetflowers are wide open, And the clangour of brass beats against the hot sunlight. They bray and blare at the burning sky. Red! Red! Coarse notes of red, Trumpeted at the blue sky. In long streaks of sound, molten metal, The vine declares itself. Clang! — from its red and yellow trumpets. Clang! — from its long, nasal trumpets, Splitting the sunlight into ribbons, tattered and shot with noise.
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Civilization in the United States: An Inquiry by Thirty Americans, Volume 10 Harold Stearns Visualizzazione completa - 1922 |
Civilization in the United States: An Inquiry by Thirty Americans, Volume 10 Harold Stearns Visualizzazione completa - 1922 |