The Vital Study of Literature, and Other Essays

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C. H. Sergel, 1912 - 380 pages
 

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Page 76 - All things transitory But as symbols are sent : Earth's insufficiency Here grows to Event : The Indescribable, Here it is done : The Woman-Soul leadeth us Upward and on!
Page 94 - Le zéphyr ou l'aquilon Depuis ce jour me promène De la forêt à la plaine, De la montagne au vallon . Je vais où le vent me mène; Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer ; Je vais où va toute chose, Où va la feuille de rose, Et la feuille de laurier.
Page 325 - But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first, Copious I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes, With loaded arms I come, pouring for you, For you and the coffins all of you, O death...
Page 302 - Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, and Future, sees; Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk'd among the ancient trees, Calling the lapsed Soul, And weeping in the evening dew; That might controll The starry pole, And fallen, fallen light renew!
Page 327 - Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there in the night, By the sea under the yellow and sagging moon, The messenger there arous'd, the fire, the sweet hell within, The unknown want, the destiny of me.
Page 91 - But where are the snows of yester-year ? White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies, With a voice like any mermaiden, — Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice, And Ermengarde the lady of Maine, — And that good Joan whom Englishmen At Rouen doomed and burned her there, — Mother of God, where are they then ? . . . But where are the snows of yester-year...
Page 301 - Now I a fourfold vision see And a fourfold vision is given to me ; Tis fourfold in my supreme delight, And threefold in soft Beulah's night, And twofold always. May God us keep From single vision, and Newton's sleep ! I also enclose you some ballads by Mr.
Page 309 - Rhyming, to be a necessary and indispensible part of Verse. But I soon found that in the mouth of a true Orator such monotony was not only awkward, but as much a bondage as rhyme itself.
Page 92 - Mary of Egypt lacked not of that bliss, Nor yet the sorrowful clerk Theophilus, Whose bitter sins were set aside even thus Though to the Fiend his bounden service was. Oh help me, lest in vain for me should pass (Sweet Virgin that shalt have no loss thereby !) The blessed Host and sacring of the Mass. Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
Page 328 - Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother, That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs at random, My own songs awaked from that hour, And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song and all songs...

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