Edward FitzGerald: An Aftermath

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T.B. Mosher, 1902 - 156 страница
 

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Страница 38 - But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Страница 96 - Gallant chivalry ! Then with an old friend I talk of our youth — How 'twas gladsome, but often Foolish, forsooth : But gladsome, gladsome ! Or to get merry We sing some old rhyme, That made the wood ring again In summer time — Sweet summer time ! Then...
Страница 37 - With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow ; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd — " I came like Water, and like Wind I go.
Страница 95 - I never look out Nor attend to the blast ; For all to be seen Is the leaves falling fast : Falling, falling...
Страница 153 - Whether at Naishapiir or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
Страница 97 - And ere to bed Go we, go we, Down on the ashes We kneel on the knee, Praying together! Thus, then, live I, Till, 'mid all the gloom, By heaven! the bold sun Is with me in the room Shining, shining! Then the clouds part, Swallows soaring between; The spring is alive, And the meadows are green ! I jump up, like mad, Break the old pipe in twain, And away to the meadows, The meadows again...
Страница 37 - Into this Universe, and Why not knowing, Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Страница xiii - It is not to the disadvantage of the later poet that he followed so closely in the footsteps of the earlier. A man of extraordinary genius had appeared in the world ; had sung a song of incomparable beauty and power in an environment no longer worthy of him, in a language of narrow range ; for many generations the song was virtually lost...
Страница 26 - Gone into darkness, that full light Of friendship ! past, in sleep, away By night, into the deeper night ! The deeper night? A clearer day Than our poor twilight dawn on earth — If night, what barren toil to be ! What life, so maim'd by night, were worth Our living out? Not mine to me...
Страница xiv - ... told no story ; he has never unpacked his heart in public ; he has never thrown the reins on the neck of the winged horse, and let his imagination carry him where it listed. "Ah! the crowd must have emphatic warrant,

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