PoemsJohn Camden Hotten, Piccadilly, 1868 - 403 páginas |
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Página 55
... hour of death , but the same affects him or her onward afterward through the indirect lifetime . The indirect is always as great and real as the direct . The spirit receives from the body just as much as it gives to the body . Not one ...
... hour of death , but the same affects him or her onward afterward through the indirect lifetime . The indirect is always as great and real as the direct . The spirit receives from the body just as much as it gives to the body . Not one ...
Página 59
... hour , and this one of the sixty beautiful children of the wave — let him merge in the general run and wait his development . . . . . . Still , the final test of poems or any character or work remains . The prescient poet projects ...
... hour , and this one of the sixty beautiful children of the wave — let him merge in the general run and wait his development . . . . . . Still , the final test of poems or any character or work remains . The prescient poet projects ...
Página 83
... hour , with irrepressible love , Walking New England , a friend , a traveller , Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples , on Paumanok's sands , Crossing the prairies — dwelling again in Chicago — dwell- ing in every ...
... hour , with irrepressible love , Walking New England , a friend , a traveller , Splashing my bare feet in the edge of the summer ripples , on Paumanok's sands , Crossing the prairies — dwelling again in Chicago — dwell- ing in every ...
Página 84
... hour they unite with the old ones ; Coming among the new ones myself , to be their companion and equal — coming personally to you now ; Enjoining you to acts , characters , spectacles , with me . I6 . With me , with firm holding — yet ...
... hour they unite with the old ones ; Coming among the new ones myself , to be their companion and equal — coming personally to you now ; Enjoining you to acts , characters , spectacles , with me . I6 . With me , with firm holding — yet ...
Página 109
... hour , and myths and tales the same ; If you were not breathing and walking here , where would they all be ? The most renowned poems would be ashes , orations and plays would be vacuums . All architecture is what you do to it when you ...
... hour , and myths and tales the same ; If you were not breathing and walking here , where would they all be ? The most renowned poems would be ashes , orations and plays would be vacuums . All architecture is what you do to it when you ...
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Termos e frases comuns
Algernon Charles Swinburne American amid appears arms Artemus Ward beauty behold blood body brother chant Chastelard cloth coloured comrades crowd Crown 8vo curious dead dear death Democracy divine dream drums earth edition electric telegraph English eternal eyes face Fcap forms GEORGE CRUIKSHANK give greatest poet GUSTAVE DORÉ hand hear John Camden Hotten lands Leaves of Grass Libertad liberty little and large living look lovers Manhattan Mannahatta master morocco mother nations never night pass passion perfect persons Pioneers poems poet poetic poetry present race rest rich rise rivers sail shapes arise ships shores silent sing skald sleep soldiers song soul spirit stand stars strong sweet Swinburne Swinburne's things thought to-day toned paper vast voice volume wait walk Walt Whitman whoever WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI wind woman women woods words young
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 308 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death. Praised be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love — but praise! praise! praise! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
Página 311 - O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells: Rise up! for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead.
Página 311 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Página 312 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will...
Página 234 - RECONCILIATION WORD over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin — I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.
Página 309 - Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. Approach strong...
Página 239 - There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Página 302 - With the tolling tolling bells' perpetual clang, Here, coffin that slowly passes, I give you my sprig of lilac. (Nor for you, for one alone, Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring, For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for you O sane and sacred death. All over bouquets of roses...
Página 241 - The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time, the curious whether and how, Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks...
Página 300 - 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...