The Bibelot

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Thomas Bird Mosher
Thomas B. Mosher, 1908

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Página 383 - Tis not the burn I hear ! She makes her immemorial moan, She keeps her shadowy kine...
Página 371 - A lover true, who knew by heart Each joy the mountain dales impart; It seemed that Nature could not raise A plant in any secret place, In quaking bog, on snowy hill, Beneath the grass that shades the rill, Under the snow, between the rocks, In damp fields known to bird and fox. But he would come in the very hour It opened in its virgin bower, As if a sunbeam showed the place, And tell its long-descended race.
Página 211 - Which strike against this mine of diamonds, Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break. These are but feigned shadows of my evils. Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils; I am past such needless palsy. For your names Of whore and murdress, they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind The filth returns in's face.
Página 225 - A sexless thing it was, and in its growth It seemed to have developed no defect Of either sex, yet all the grace of both...
Página 95 - Which of us, in his moments of ambition, has not dreamed of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical, without rhythm and without rhyme, supple enough and rugged enough to adapt itself to the lyrical impulses of the soul, the undulations of reverie, the jibes of conscience?
Página 218 - The Garden of Proserpine', expressive, as I meant they should be, of that brief total pause of passion and of thought, when the spirit, without fear or hope of good things or evil, hungers and thirsts only after the perfect sleep.
Página 372 - Crabbed age and youth cannot live together Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare; Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; O, my...
Página 218 - If I climb up into heaven, Thou art there ; if I go down to hell, Thou art there also.
Página 380 - D'ARTHUR. So all day long the noise of battle roll'd Among the mountains by the winter sea, Until King Arthur's table, man by man, Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord, King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep, The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, A broken chancel with a broken cross, That stood on a dark strait of barren land. On one side lay...
Página 211 - To translate the two odes and the remaining fragments of Sappho is the one impossible task ; and as witness of this I will call up one of the greatest among poets. Catullus " translated " — or as his countrymen would now say

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