Favorite Authors: A Companion-book of Prose and Poetry

James Thomas Fields
Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - 299 pages

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Page 41 - I shall never, in the years remaining, Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues, Make you music that should all-express me; So it seems: I stand on my attainment. This of verse alone, one life allows me; Verse and nothing else have I to give you Other heights in other lives, God willing: All the gifts from all the heights, your own, love!
Page 61 - Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud ! Sae loud I hear ye lie : For Percy had not men yestreen To dight my men and me. " But I have dream'da dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Skye ; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I.
Page 264 - FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ...
Page 39 - Using nature that's an art to others, Not, this one time, art that's turned his nature. Ay, of all the artists living, loving, None but would forego his proper dowry, — Does he paint? he fain would write a poem, — Does he write?
Page 41 - Love, you saw me gather men and women, Live or dead or fashioned by my fancy, Enter each and all, and use their service, Speak from every mouth, — the speech, a poem.
Page 42 - She would turn a new side to her mortal, Side unseen of herdsman, huntsman, steersman — Blank to Zoroaster on his terrace, Blind to Galileo on his turret, Dumb to Homer, dumb to Keats — him, even!
Page 24 - This shall never be, That thou shouldst take my trouble on thyself: And, now I think, he shall not have the boy, For he will teach him hardness, and to slight His mother ; therefore thou and I will go, And I will have my boy, and bring him home...
Page 22 - I cannot marry Dora; by my life, I will not marry Dora." Then the old man Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and said: "You will not, boy! you dare to answer thus!
Page 244 - And keep the blossom of the earth, Which all her harvests were not worth? Not mine, — I never called thee mine, But Nature's heir, — if I repine, And seeing rashly torn and moved Not what I made, but what I loved. Grow early old with grief that thou Must to the wastes of Nature go, — 'Tis because a general hope Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope.
Page 244 - Who gazed upon the sun and moon As if he came unto his own, And, pregnant with his grander thought, Brought the old order into doubt. His beauty once their beauty tried ; They could not feed him, and he died, And wandered backward as in scorn, To wait an aeon to be born. HI day which made this beauty waste, Plight broken, this high face defaced...

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