The PrincessMaynard, 1897 - 147 pages |
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Page 11
... Tears , idle tears , ' and ' O swallow , swallow , flying , flying south . ' " - Victorian Poets : E. C. STEDMAN . 66 One hardly knows how to take the poet . At one moment he is very much in earnest ; the next moment he seems to be ...
... Tears , idle tears , ' and ' O swallow , swallow , flying , flying south . ' " - Victorian Poets : E. C. STEDMAN . 66 One hardly knows how to take the poet . At one moment he is very much in earnest ; the next moment he seems to be ...
Page 34
... tears . And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears , When we fall out with these we love And kiss again with tears ! For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years , There above the little grave , O there ...
... tears . And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears , When we fall out with these we love And kiss again with tears ! For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years , There above the little grave , O there ...
Page 46
... and to fall and while They stood , so rapt , we gazing , came a voice , 295. far allusion , allusions to events that happened long ago . gracious dews , loving tears . " I brought a message here from Lady Blanche . 46 THE PRINCESS.
... and to fall and while They stood , so rapt , we gazing , came a voice , 295. far allusion , allusions to events that happened long ago . gracious dews , loving tears . " I brought a message here from Lady Blanche . 46 THE PRINCESS.
Page 55
... tears ; 66 And fly , " she cried , “ O fly , while yet you may ! My mother knows " and when I ask'd her " how , " " My fault , " she wept , " my fault ! and yet not mine ; Yet mine in part . O hear me , pardon me . 10 15 My mother ...
... tears ; 66 And fly , " she cried , “ O fly , while yet you may ! My mother knows " and when I ask'd her " how , " " My fault , " she wept , " my fault ! and yet not mine ; Yet mine in part . O hear me , pardon me . 10 15 My mother ...
Page 65
... tear ; And up we came to where the river sloped To plunge in cataract , shattering on black blocks A breadth of thunder . O'er it shook the woods , 275 And danced the color , and , below , stuck out The bones of some vast bulk that ...
... tear ; And up we came to where the river sloped To plunge in cataract , shattering on black blocks A breadth of thunder . O'er it shook the woods , 275 And danced the color , and , below , stuck out The bones of some vast bulk that ...
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25 cents 40 cents Alfred Tennyson answer'd Arac arms betwixt brother brows call'd child Cloth Cyril dark daughter dead death dream Elementary ENGLISH EXERCISES Ernst Eckstein Ernst von Wildenbruch eyes fair fall'n fancies father fight Florian flying French Grammar German girl golden Greek mythology hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven Kellogg's king Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land language light Lilia lives look'd Lucius Junius Brutus Ludovic Halévy maiden maids MAYNARD Melissa moon morning mother moved night noble o'er onomatopoeia Otto Hoffman ourself pages notes pages text pages vocabulary Paul Heyse poem poet price 20 cents Prince Princess Prologue Queen Reinhold Pauli rose sang seem'd shadow shame song spake speak spoke star stood sweet talk'd tears Tennyson thee thou thought thro turn'd voice volume W. D. WHITNEY wild woman women words
Popular passages
Page 69 - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 70 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 71 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 137 - That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance thee down To find him in the valley ; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling watersmoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await...
Page 141 - Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Page 139 - For woman is not undevelopt man, . But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto...
Page 136 - The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake : So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.
Page 5 - Of him that utter'd nothing base ; And should your greatness, and the care That yokes with empire, yield you time To make demand of modern rhyme If aught of ancient worth be there ; Then — -while a sweeter music wakes, And thro...
Page 137 - ... broken purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come; for all the vales Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Page 146 - This fine old world of ours is but a child Yet in the go-cart. Patience! Give it time To learn its limbs: there is a hand that guides.