Philharmonic: A Magazine Devoted to Music, Art, Drama, Volume 3

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Charles Elston Nixon
Philharmonic Company, 1903

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Page 177 - And only the Master shall praise us. and only the Master shall blame: And no one shall work for money. and no one shall work for fame. But each for the joy of the working. and each. in his separate star. Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!
Page 176 - Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth...
Page 289 - 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.
Page 156 - Pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution, cannot like those of poetry be their own record! That the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them; or at best can but faintly glimmer through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving spectators.
Page 289 - Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, ' "* Which to discover we must travel too.
Page 290 - Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
Page 118 - If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — Such boasting as the Gentiles use Or lesser breeds without the Law — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard — All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard — For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen.
Page 174 - It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold," the Colour-Sergeant said. "What makes that front-rank man fall down?" says Files-on-Parade. "A touch o' sun, a touch o" sun," the Colour-Sergeant said. They are hangin...
Page 174 - Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an 'Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?' But it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes...
Page 289 - Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears To-day of past Regrets and future Fears: To-morrow! — Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

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