Georgian Poetry, 1913-1915Poetry bookshop, 1916 - 242 pagine |
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beauty bird blood Bottomley Gordon Bottomley brain breath bull burning camels carvers cold crombie Lascelles crown crying curtains D. H. Lawrence dare dark daughter dawn dead death door Dowser dream earth Elder Woman eyes face fire flowers FRANCIS LEDWIDGE Gentleman John gleaming gone Goneril Gordon Bottomley Gordon Gormflaith green hand Harold Monro head heard heart hill Huff Hygd I'ld James Elroy Flecker James Stephens John Drinkwater John Masefield King Kiss LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE Lear lips live look Merrick Merry Andrew Merryn mind molecatcher moon mother naught never night Queen quiet round Rupert Brooke Shale ship silence singing sleep Sollers song soon star stare stone Stranger sweet tail there's thing thou thought toad turn Vine wall Wanderer Warp watch what's Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wind women Yasmin yellowhammers Younger Woman
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Pagina 61 - If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England.
Pagina 56 - I've known, Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown About the winds of the world, and fades from brains Of living men, and dies. Nothing remains. O dear my loves, O faithless, once again This one last gift I give : that after men Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed, Praise you, " All these were lovely " ; say,
Pagina 107 - I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep Beyond the village which men still call Tyre, With leaden age o'ercargoed, dipping deep For Famagusta and the hidden sun That rings black Cyprus with a lake of fire...
Pagina 192 - THE SNARE 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 I And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare: Little one! Oh, little one ! I am searching everywhere!
Pagina 73 - Nell Barnes was bad on all you men, Unclean, a thief as well; Yet all my life I have not found A better friend than Nell. 'So I sat at her side at last, For hours, till she was dead; And yet she had no sense at all Of any word I said. 'For all her cry but came to this "Not for the world! Take care: Don't touch that bird of paradise, Perched on the bedpost there!
Pagina 151 - With each and every chanting sprite That lit the sky that wondrous night As far as eye could climb! I heard it all, I heard the whole Harmonious hymn of being roll Up through the chapel of my soul And at the altar die, And in the awful quiet then Myself I heard, Amen, Amen, Amen I heard me cry ! I heard it all and then although I caught my flying senses, Oh, A dizzy man was I ! I stood and stared; the sky was lit, The sky was stars all over it, I stood, I knew not why...
Pagina 69 - Beyond the town, where wild flowers growA rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are now ! Know, all ye sheep And cows, that keep On staring that I stand so long In grass that's wet from heavy rain — A rainbow and a cuckoo's song May never come together again ; May never come This side the tomb.
Pagina 155 - ALONG the avenue of cypresses All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices Of linen go the chanting choristers, The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . . . And all along the path to the cemetery The round dark heads of men crowd silently, And black-scarved faces of women-folk, wistfully Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery. And at the foot of a grave a father stands With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands ; And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels With pale shut face, nor either...
Pagina 141 - And in all the tramping herd Not a bull that barred his way, Not a cow that said him nay, Not a bull or cow that erred...
Pagina 51 - Tail, and the ungainly wise. There the Eternals are, and there The Good, the Lovely, and the True, And Types, whose earthly copies were The foolish broken things we knew ; There is the Face, whose ghosts we are ; The real, the never-setting Star ; And the Flower, of which we love Faint and fading shadows here ; Never a tear, but only Grief ; Dance, but not the limbs that move...