The BibelotThomas Bird Mosher Thomas B. Mosher, 1904 |
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Página 65
... dwindles into death : Shut then the book with care ; and so , Take leave of Plato , with hushed breath : A little , by the falling gleams , Tarry the gracious dreams : And they too go . Lean from the window to the air : Hear London's 65.
... dwindles into death : Shut then the book with care ; and so , Take leave of Plato , with hushed breath : A little , by the falling gleams , Tarry the gracious dreams : And they too go . Lean from the window to the air : Hear London's 65.
Página 66
Thomas Bird Mosher. Lean from the window to the air : Hear London's voice upon the night ! Thou hast bold converse with things rare : Look now upon another sight ! The calm stars , in their living skies : And then , these surging cries ...
Thomas Bird Mosher. Lean from the window to the air : Hear London's voice upon the night ! Thou hast bold converse with things rare : Look now upon another sight ! The calm stars , in their living skies : And then , these surging cries ...
Página 77
... hears the heavy bells : Hears , and with passionate breath Eternally she tells A rosary of death . Faithful and true is she , The mother of us all : Faithful and true ! may we Fail her not , though we fall . Her son , our brother , lies ...
... hears the heavy bells : Hears , and with passionate breath Eternally she tells A rosary of death . Faithful and true is she , The mother of us all : Faithful and true ! may we Fail her not , though we fall . Her son , our brother , lies ...
Página 86
... Hear you not happy airs , and voices augural ? For you , in these last days by sure foreknowledge set , Looms no Italian shore , bright and imperial ? Wounded and worn ! What Virgil sang , doth God forget ? Virgil , the melancholy , the ...
... Hear you not happy airs , and voices augural ? For you , in these last days by sure foreknowledge set , Looms no Italian shore , bright and imperial ? Wounded and worn ! What Virgil sang , doth God forget ? Virgil , the melancholy , the ...
Página 91
... hear the mourning thunder : And voices , in the shadows , talking . Dear , are there dreams among the dead : Or is it all a perfect slumber ? But I must dream and dream to madness . Mine eyes are dark , now yours are fled : Yet see they ...
... hear the mourning thunder : And voices , in the shadows , talking . Dear , are there dreams among the dead : Or is it all a perfect slumber ? But I must dream and dream to madness . Mine eyes are dark , now yours are fled : Yet see they ...
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50 cents antique boards antique boards including arter BACK NUMBERS BALDOCK BALDOCK BLACK HORSE BALLADE Barney McGee beauty BiBelof boards including title breast breath chant child CHORUS Current numbers Five dark dear death dream earth eyes FIONA MACLEOD Five cents 1904 Florence flowers golden green heart Here's Hermit less per volume LIONEL JOHNSON looked Lucretius Mary's child MAURICE HEWLETT MDCCCCIV Midsummer days MONTHLY Current numbers mother Niccola Pisano night nivver numbers Five cents pass PERCIVAL STOCKDALE POEMS IN PROSE poet PUBLISHED MONTHLY Current Reprint of Poetry ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON ROSES OF PAESTUM RUNNING WATER säa SEA-MAGIC AND RUNNING silence sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring star Subscribers are recommended SUBSCRIPTIONS for 1904 sweet thee thine things thou did'st thou hast voice Whitman wild WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY wind yeou young youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 403 - THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Página 232 - In the swamp in secluded recesses, A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song, Solitary the thrush, The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life (for well dear brother I know, If thou wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die...
Página 237 - With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees prolific, In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the...
Página 245 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Página 405 - WE cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides ; The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides.
Página 231 - WHEN lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring. Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, And thought of him I love.
Página 243 - ... hands, Passing the song of the hermit bird and the tallying song of my soul, Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying ever-altering song, As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night, Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy, Covering the earth and filling the spread of the heaven, As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses, Passing, I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves, I leave thee there...
Página 241 - From me to thee glad serenades, Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee, And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting, And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
Página 412 - How he would pour himself in every strife, And well-nigh change his own identity; That it might keep from his capricious play His genuine self, and force him to obey Even in his own despite, his being's law, Bade, through the deep recesses of our breast The unregarded river of our life Pursue with indiscernible flow its way; And that we should not see The buried stream, and seem to be Eddying about in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally.
Página 236 - O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved? And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone? And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?