The Song of the Sword, and Other VersesD. Nutt, 1892 - 101 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
aëry morrice all-too ancient beauty blackbird Bloucourt boon bugles blown buxom calls CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Chatterton cloud comedian dark dawn dead dear Death desolate destiny dews dread dreams dust earth El Dorado enchanted England evermore fade Father fire Flames fleet floats Footfall forget fulfil Garden laughed Geraldine ghost gift gleam gloom gold golden Grave grey grope Gulls gyre hand Hangman Hark heart heel hell jealous leafage light little boughs London Town maid majesty Marriage memories menace merry June MIDSUMMER midnight morn was merry multitudinous night obscene Old Tree old unchanging poor RHYMES AND RHYTHMS River roaring Reaches round ruining sapphirine secrets shadow shining ships shore silences smile song Sons soul sound stars street on street strife sunset Sweet Sword Clanging Sword Singing teeming things Thunder touch Transfigure Triple triumph Trumpet tryst voice waits and wanders wave Weltering whelps wild Wind-Fiend
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Página 99 - WHAT have I done for you, England, my England ? What is there I would not do, England, my own ? With your glorious eyes austere, As the Lord were walking near, Whispering terrible things and dear As the Song on your bugles blown, England — Round the world on your bugles blown ! Where shall the watchful Sun, England, my England, Match the master-work you've done. England, my own ? When shall he rejoice agen Such a breed of mighty men As come forward, one to ten, To the Song on your bugles blown...
Página 100 - Such A breed of mighty men, As come forward, one to ten, To the Song on your bugles blown, England Down' the years on your bugles blown?
Página 18 - For stocks of leaves ! And lo ! the Wizard Hour, His silent, shining sorcery winged with power ! Still, still the streets, between their carcanets Of linking gold, are avenues of sleep. But see how gable ends and parapets In gradual beauty and significance Emerge ! And did you hear That little twitter-and-cheep, Breaking inordinately loud and clear On this still, spectral, exquisite atmosphere ? 'Tis a first nest at matins ! And behold A rakehell cat — how furtive and acold ! A spent witch homing...
Página 22 - Down through the ancient Strand The spirit of October, mild and boon And sauntering, takes his way This golden end of afternoon, As though the corn stood yellow in all the land, And the ripe apples dropped to the harvest-moon. Lo! the round sun, half-down the western slope Seen as along an unglazed telescope Lingers and lolls, loth to be done with day: Gifting the long, lean, lanky street And its abounding confluences of being With aspects generous and bland; Making...
Página 60 - As like the Woman as you can' (Thus the New Adam was beguiled) 'So shall you touch the Perfect Man' (God in the Garden heard and smiled). "Your father perished with his day: A clot of passions fierce and blind, 'He fought, he hacked, he crushed his way: 'Your muscles, Child, must be of mind. 'The Brute that lurks and irks within, 'How, till you have him gagged and bound, 'Escape the foullest form of Sin?
Página 70 - ... melancholy a soliloquy It sounds as it might tell The secret of the unending grief-in-grain, The terror of Time and Change and Death, That wastes this floating, transitory world. What of the incantation That forced the huddled shapes on yonder shore To take and wear the night Like a material majesty ? That touched the shafts of wavering fire About this miserable welter and wash — (River, O River of...
Página 101 - They call you proud and hard, England, my England: You with worlds to watch and ward, England, my own! You whose mailed hand keeps the keys Of such teeming destinies You could know nor dread nor ease Were the Song on your bugles blown, England, Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Página 26 - Tis El Dorado — El Dorado plain, The Golden City! And when a girl goes by, Look! as she turns her glancing head, A call of gold is floated from her ear! Golden, all golden! In a golden glory, Long-lapsing down a golden coasted sky, The day, not dies but, seems Dispersed in wafts and drifts of gold, and shed Upon a past of golden song and story And memories of gold and golden dreams.
Página 54 - Life — life — let there be life ! Better a thousand times the roaring hours When wave and wind, Like the Arch-Murderer in flight From the Avenger at his heel, Storm through the desolate fastnesses And wild waste places of the world ! Life — give me life until the end, That at the very top of being, The battle-spirit shouting in my blood, Out of the reddest hell of the fight I may be snatched and flung Into the everlasting lull, The immortal, incommunicable dream.
Página 24 - And the high majesty of Paul's Uplifts a voice of living light, and calls — Calls to his millions to behold and see How goodly this his London Town can be...