The Living Age, Svazek 228

Přední strana obálky
Living Age Company, 1901
 

Co říkají ostatní - Napsat recenzi

Na obvyklých místech jsme nenalezli žádné recenze.

Vybrané stránky

Obsah

Další vydání - Zobrazit všechny

Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví

Oblíbené pasáže

Strana 718 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Strana 350 - Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
Strana 149 - What, silent still? and silent all? Ah! no — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head, But one arise — we come, we come!
Strana 145 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms— the day Battle's magnificently stern array!
Strana 149 - Shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep ; Nor need I to repine That all those charms have passed away ; I might have watch'd through long decay.
Strana 458 - An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom.
Strana 409 - Taint in poetry, is it ?" interposed his father. " No, no/' replied Sam. " Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. " Poetry's unnat'ral ; no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin...
Strana 150 - The triumph, and the vanity, The rapture of the strife — The earthquake voice of Victory, To thee the breath of life; The sword, the scepter, and that sway Which man seem'd made but to obey Wherewith renown was rife — All quell'd!
Strana 468 - Let us understand, once for all, that the ethical progress of society depends, not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in running away from it, but in combating it.
Strana 149 - The natural music of the mountain reed — For here the patriarchal days are not A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd; My soul would drink those echoes.

Bibliografické údaje