Literary Recreations

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Macmillan and Company, limited, 1918 - Books and reading - 329 pages
 

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Page 53 - A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine; who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine.
Page 264 - ... died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.
Page 303 - Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine : O soothest Sleep ! if so it please thee, close, In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, Or wait the amen...
Page 273 - I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:
Page 237 - Using nature that's an art to others, Not, this one time, art that's turned his nature. Ay, of all the artists living, loving, None but would forego his proper dowry, — Does he paint? he fain would write a poem, — Does he write? he fain would paint a picture, Put to proof art alien to the artist's. Once, and only once, and for one only, So to be the man and leave the artist, Gain the man's joy, miss the artist's sorrow.
Page 231 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear, Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die: Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, 18 The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
Page 281 - Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored winglets, Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer...
Page 218 - The point of one white star is quivering still Deep in the orange light of widening morn Beyond the purple mountains : through a chasm Of wind-divided mist the darker lake Reflects it: now it wanes: it gleams again As the waves fade, and as the burning threads Of woven cloud unravel in pale air: 'Tis lost ! and through yon peaks of cloud-like snow The roseate sunlight quivers...
Page 283 - When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror, Tying up her laces, looping up her hair, Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, More love should I have, and much less care. When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror, Loosening her laces, combing down her curls, Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, I should miss but one for many boys and girls.
Page 282 - Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, Swift as the swallow along the river's light Circleting the surface to meet his mirrored winglets, Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight.

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