Rhymes À la ModeK. Paul, Trench, 1887 - 139 strani |
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Achilles ALMAE MATRES Apuleius Aristophanes art thou mute ART'S MARTYR Ascidian BALLADE BARBAROUS BIRD-GODS barque bay of Spezia Beside your manor blossoms bog-myrtle bog-myrtle and peat Book-man's Paradise Borneo boughs Braddon and Gaboriau bright burns Camelot CLOUD CHORUS dawn dead divine doth dreams dwell Dyacks ENVOY Eurotas fell fled fleet forte's to evaluate FORTUNATE ISLANDS Fourpenny Box Frère Lubin gift Gods golden green grey grey North Hath the Master Hawk immortal Joyous Guard kissed lady Life's more amusing lily and violet lost his lute Lycosura maiden man's desire manor old Master lost MILLENNIUM Miss Braddon moan night O'er PALACE OF BRIC-À-BRAC penny are sold Philistia Pisidicê Pundjel RONSARD'S GRAVE scribbled second spring shadowy shining shore Sidero sigh smell of bog-myrtle snow souls sweet tattooed TERENZO thee thine TINTAGEL twas twilight Villanelle wind wreathe Zeus καὶ
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Stran 130 - Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day — so warm that every window was wide open— and so perfectly still, that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his eyes.
Stran 66 - There IS a Heaven, or here, or there, A Heaven there is, for me and you, Where bargains meet for purses spare, Like ours, are not so far and few. Thuanus' bees go humming through The learned groves, 'neath rainless skies, O'er volumes old and volumes new, Within that Book-man's Paradise! There treasures bound for Longepierre Keep brilliant their morocco blue, There Hookes' AMANDA is not rare, Nor early tracts upon Peru!
Stran 27 - Among the bracken of the glen, Her yellow wreath October yields, To crown the crystal brows of Ken. Unseen, Eurotas, southward steal, Unknown, Alpheus, westward glide, You never heard the ringing reel, The music of the water side! Though Gods have walked your woods among Though nymphs have fled your banks along; You speak not that familiar tongue Tweed murmurs like my cradle song.
Stran 30 - WHEN strawberry pottles are common and cheap, Ere elms be black, or limes be sere, When midnight dances are murdering sleep, Then comes in the sweet o' the year ! And far from Fleet Street, far from here, The Summer is Queen in the length of the land, And moonlit nights they are soft and clear, When fans for a penny are sold in the Strand ! . When clamour that doves in the lindens keep Mingles with musical plash of the weir, Where drowned green tresses of crowsfoot creep, Then comes in the sweet...
Stran ix - There was no heavy heat, no cold, The dwellers there wax never old, Nor wither with the waning time, But each man keeps that age he had When first he won the fairy clime. The Night falls never from on high, Nor ever burns the heat of noon. But such soft light eternally Shines, as in silver dawns of June Before the Sun hath climbed the sky!
Stran 105 - Twas thus my course began, I am a Merry Jest! I am an early Jest! Man delved, and built, and span; Then wandered South and West The peoples Aryan, I journeyed in their van; The Semites, too, confessed, From Beersheba to Dan, I am a Merry Jest!
Stran 75 - Of the father of streams, from the sounding sea, Dewy and fleet, let us rise and soar. Dewy and gleaming, and fleet are we! Let us look on the tree-clad mountain crest, On the sacred earth where the fruits rejoice, On the waters that murmur east and west On the tumbling sea with his moaning voice, For unwearied glitters the Eye of the Air, And the bright rays gleam; Then cast we our shadows of mist, and fare In our deathless...
Stran 104 - Ascidian's rooted to a rock, And we are bond-slaves of the clock; Our rocks are Medicine — Letters — Law, From these our heads we cannot draw: Our loves drop off, our hearts drop in, And daily thicker grows our skin. Ah, scarce we live, we scarcely know The wide world's moving ebb and flow, The clanging currents ring and shock, But we are rooted to the rock.
Stran 106 - I'm found in Lucian, In Poggio, and the rest, I'm dear to Moll and Nan! I am a Merry Jest! ENVOY Prince, you may storm and ban- Joe Millers are a pest, Suppress me if you can! I am a Merry Jest!
Stran 26 - The sea trout, rushing at the fly, Breaks the black wave with sudden spray ! Brief are man's days at best; perchance I waste my own, who have not seen The castled palaces of France Shine on the Loire in summer green. And clear and fleet Eurotas still, You tell me, laves his reedy shore, And flows beneath his fabled hill Where Dian drave the chase of yore. And " like a horse unbroken