Cosa dicono le persone - Scrivi una recensione
Nessuna recensione trovata nei soliti posti.
Altre edizioni - Visualizza tutto
American Amy Lowell Anthology artists ballads beauty Bending and bowing bird blue brown Chicago Comments and Reviews dark dawn dead death Dial Dowson dream earth editor endow England English eyes Ezra Pound face fire flame flower Floyd Dell forest Frost gleam glory gray green hand Harriet Monroe hear heart heaven hills Horace Holley Imagist John Gould Fletcher Kennerley laughing leaves light lives London lover lyric Macmillan magazine Masters Miss Lowell modern moon morning never night Padraic Colum passion perhaps play poems Poetry Bookshop praise prose published rhymes Rupert Brooke shining silence sing sleep song Sonnets soul spirit Spoon River Spoon River Anthology stars Sturge Moore T. S. Eliot thee things thou tree verse vision voice wake Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wind wonder word write young poet
Pagina 131 - There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate...
Pagina 135 - No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous — Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Pagina 19 - England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Pagina 131 - The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
Pagina 130 - Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table...
Pagina 94 - I HEAR a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid. Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid ; And I cannot find the place ! And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare : Little one ! Oh, little one ! I am searching everywhere.
Pagina 135 - I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
Pagina 287 - Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved, And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them, And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always,—...
Pagina 131 - Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?
Pagina 134 - Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets. After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor — And this, and so much more? — It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: 'That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.