Georgian Poetry, 1911-1912Sir Edward Howard Marsh Poetry Bookshop, 1920 - 197 pagine |
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Amyntas beauty beneath beside bird breast breath bright burn Captain crombie Cuckoo Cydilla D. H. Lawrence Damon dark dawn dead deep Delphis dream drown ears Edmund Beale Sargant Elkin Mathews eyes face fear feet flame flowers fool gaze Georgian Poetry Gibson Wilfrid Wilson glade gleam glory gone GORDON BOTTOMLEY green hand happy hare Harold Monro head hear heard heart Heaven hill Hipparchus hour James Elroy Flecker James Stephens James John Drinkwater John Masefield king knew Lascelles laughed light lips live looked man's mind never night Poems Port Fore round Rupert Brooke sail seemed ships sigh sight silent sing sleep smile song soul stars stirred stood strange Sturge Moore sweet tell thee things thou art thought tree turned voice watched waves whisper Wilfrid Wilson Gibson Wilson Gibson Wilfrid wind
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Pagina 71 - Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest's ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller's head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; "Is there anybody there?
Pagina 37 - Oh, is the water sweet and cool, Gentle and brown, above the pool? And laughs the immortal river still Under the mill, under the mill?
Pagina 71 - Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller's call.
Pagina 39 - Then in some garden hushed from wind, Warm in a sunset's afterglow, The lovers in the flowers will find A sweet and strange unquiet grow Upon the peace; and, past desiring, So high a beauty in the air, And such a light, and such a quiring, And such a radiant ecstasy there, They'll know not if it's fire, or dew. Or out of earth, or in the height, Singing, or flame, or scent, or hue, Or two that pass, in light, to light, Out of the garden, higher, higher.
Pagina 67 - FAR are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, 'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets, Under the ghost of the moon...
Pagina 41 - Fades to some dank sufficient heaven. O world of lips, O world of laughter, Where hope is fleet and thought flies after, Of lights in the clear night, of cries That drift along the wave and rise Thin to the glittering stars above, You know the hands, the eyes of love! The strife of limbs, the sightless clinging, The infinite distance, and the singing Blown by the wind, a flame of sound, The gleam, the flowers, and vast around The horizon, and the heights above — You know the sigh, the song of love...
Pagina 67 - ... is the music of Arabia In my heart, when out of dreams I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn Descry her gliding streams; Hear her strange lutes on the green banks Ring loud with the grief and delight Of the dim-silked, dark-haired Musicians In the brooding silence of night.
Pagina 40 - In a cool curving world he lies And ripples with dark ecstasies. The kind luxurious lapse and steal Shapes all his universe to feel And know and be ; the clinging stream Closes his memory, glooms his dream, Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glides Superb on unreturning rides.
Pagina 72 - For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head: "Tell them I came, and no one answered That I kept my word," he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone.
Pagina 38 - When the white flame in us is gone, And we that lost the world's delight Stiffen in darkness, left alone To crumble in our separate night; When your swift hair is quiet in death, And through the lips corruption thrust Has stilled the...