September: The death of Paris; The land east of the sun and west of the moon. October: The story of Accontius and Cydippe; The man who never laughed again. November: The story of Rhodope; The lovers of GudrunRoberts brothers, 1871 |
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Acrisius Admetus adown Adrastus Alcestis ancient anigh arms art thou beast behold bliss bright brought cast Cepheus clad cried Danaë dead death deemed dread dream drew E'en earth end of day eyes face fain fair fair lord father fear feet fell flowers gazed gifts glad gods gold golden gray grew hand happy head heard heart hope hopes and fears Jovinian King kiss knew land live look lord maid midst mighty misery morn naught neath nigh night o'er Ogier Ogier the Dane pain passed Pelias Perseus Phineus Polydectes Psyche Pygmalion Queen raiment round scarce Schoeneus seemed Seriphos shalt thou shame smile stood strange sweet tale tell thee therewithal Thessaly thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling turned twixt unto wandering weary wind withal words wretched
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 4 - OF Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, Or hope again for aught that I can say, The idle singer of an empty day.
Strona 4 - Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, Why should I strive to set the crooked straight ? Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme Beats with light wing against the ivory gate, Telling a tale not too importunate To those who in the sleepy region stay, Lulled by the singer of an empty day.
Strona 4 - Folk say, a wizard to a northern king At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, That through one window men beheld the spring, And through another saw the summer glow, And through a third the fruited vines a-row, While still, unheard, but in its wonted way, Piped the drear wind of that December day.
Strona 86 - Once more, an unblest woeful victory— And yet — and yet — why does her breath begin To fail her — and her feet drag heavily? Why fails she now to see if far or nigh The goal is? why do her gray eyes grow dim? Why do these tremors run through every limb? She spreads her arms abroad some stay to find Else must she fall, indeed, and findeth this, A strong man's arms about her body twined. Nor may she shudder now to feel his kiss, So wrapped she is in new unbroken bliss: Made happy that the foe...
Strona 291 - ... breezes blow Sweet with the scent of beanfields far away, Above our heads rustle the aspens grey, Calm is the sky with harmless clouds beset, No thought of storm the morning vexes yet. See, we have left our hopes and fears behind To give our very hearts up unto thee ; What better place than this then could we find By this sweet stream that knows not of the sea, That guesses not the city's misery, This little stream whose hamlets scarce have names, This far-off, lonely mother of the Thames ? Here...
Strona 424 - Shall we weep for a dead day, Or set Sorrow in our way ? Hidden by my golden hair, Wilt thou weep that sweet days wear ? Kiss me, love! for who knoweth What thing cometh after death ? ILLE. Weep, O Love, the days that flit, Now, while I can feel thy breath; Then may I remember it Sad and old, and near my death. Kiss me, love! for who knoweth What thing cometh after death...
Strona 82 - The dawn beheld him sunken in his place Upon the floor; and sleeping there he lay, Not heeding aught the little jets of spray The roughened sea brought nigh, across him cast, For as one dead all thought from him had passed. Yet long before the sun had showed his head, Long ere the varied hangings on the wall Had gained once more their blue and green and red, He rose as one some well-known sign doth call When war upon the city's gates doth fall, And scarce like one fresh risen out of sleep, He 'gan...
Strona 79 - That twice a-day rise high above the base, And with the south-west urging them, embrace The marble feet of her that standeth there That shrink not, naked though they be and fair. Small is the fane through which the seawind sings About Queen Venus' well-wrought image white, But hung around are many precious things, The gifts of those who, longing for delight, Have hung them there within the goddess' sight. And in return have taken at her hands The living treasures of the Grecian lands. And thither...
Strona 291 - O June, that we desired so, Wilt thou not make us happy on this day ? Across the river thy soft breezes blow Sweet with the scent of beanfields far away, Above our heads rustle the aspens grey, Calm is the sky with harmless clouds beset, No thought of storm the morning vexes yet. See, we have left our hopes and fears behind To give our very hearts up unto thee ; What better place than this then could we find By this sweet stream that knows not of the sea, That guesses not the city's...
Strona 72 - Too fair for one to look on and be glad, Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had. If he must still behold her from afar ; Too fair to let the world live free from war.