The Lore of the Wanderer

Sprednja platnica
George Goodchild
Dutton, 1922 - 256 strani

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Priljubljeni odlomki

Stran 162 - From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet birds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under ; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Stran 64 - Lo! in the middle of the wood, The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud With winds upon the branch, and there Grows green and broad, and takes no care, Sun-steep'd at noon, and in the moon Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow Falls, and floats adown the air.
Stran 102 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
Stran 95 - The green hath two pleasures; the one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept finely shorn; the other because it will give you a fair alley in the midst, by which you may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to...
Stran 124 - ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE i?75 Now the golden Morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing, With vermeil cheek, and whisper soft She wooes the tardy Spring, Till April starts and calls around The sleeping fragrance from the ground; And lightly o'er the living scene Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
Stran 67 - Then longforgotten things, like "sunken wrack and sumless treasuries," burst upon my eager sight, and I begin to feel, think, and be myself again. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attempts at wit or dull commonplaces, mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is perfect eloquence. No one likes puns, alliterations, antitheses, argument and analysis better than I do; but I sometimes had rather be without them. "Leave, oh, leave me to my repose!" I have just now other business...
Stran 65 - I like solitude, when I give myself up to it, for the sake of solitude ; nor do I ask for -' a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper solitude is sweet." The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences ; to leave ourselves behind, much more to get rid of others. It is because I want a little breathing-space to muse on indifferent matters, where Contemplation.
Stran 96 - ... work ; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret with a belly, enough to receive a cage of birds ; and over every space, between the arches, some other little figure, with broad plates of round coloured glass, gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank,' not steep, but gently slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also, I understand, that this square of the garden should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on...
Stran 14 - Give me the clear blue sky over my head and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours' march to dinner — and then to thinking! It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone heaths. I laugh, I run, I leap, I sing for joy.
Stran 233 - Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, — such was the process: And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.

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