The New Poetry: An AnthologyHarriet Monroe, Alice Corbin Henderson Macmillan, 1917 - Počet stran: 404 |
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ALLEN UPWARD barberries beauty beneath beside bird blue breast brother Cæsar's Catch Song cloud cold Curithir D. H. LAWRENCE dancing dark dawn dear death dream dust earth EDITH WYATT eyes F. S. Flint face feet fire flame flowers forever garden gold gone grass gray green hand heard heart heaven HERVEY WHITE hill kiss knew laughing leaves light lips lonely look lover mist MONTAGNE SAINTE-GENEVIÈVE moon never night pale Pamplona pass poetry poets praise purple Purple Willows rain sang Seven Veils shadow silence silver sing sleep smile song sorrow soul stand stars stirred stone strange sweet tears Temple thee things Thou art thunder tide tree turn voice void of silence wait Walter Conrad Arensberg watch weeping WILFRID WILSON GIBSON William Rose Benét wind wings woman wonder
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Strana xxxi - If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Strana xxxi - ... thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping. Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary, Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move, And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary, And all the little emptiness of love!
Strana 135 - Sleep softly, * * * eagle forgotten, * * * under the stone, Time has its way with you there and the clay has its own. Sleep on, O brave hearted, O wise man, that kindled the flame— To live in mankind is far more than to live in a name, To live in mankind, far, far more * * * than to live in a name.
Strana 135 - Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.
Strana 253 - Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good morning...
Strana 134 - The lost, that in armies wept over your funeral pall? They call on the names of a hundred high-valiant ones, A hundred white eagles have risen the sons of your sons, The zeal in their wings is a zeal that your dreaming began The valor that wore out your soul in the service of man.
Strana 116 - I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
Strana 290 - But in contentment I still feel The need of some imperishable bliss." Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams And our desires. Although she strews the leaves...
Strana 291 - Supple and turbulent, a ring of men Shall chant in orgy on a summer morn Their boisterous devotion to the sun, Not as a god, but as a god might be, Naked among them, like a savage source.
Strana 34 - Oread WHIRL UP, sea — whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us, cover us with your pools of fir.