The Earthly Paradise: A Poem
Reeves and Turner, 1890 - Broj stranica: 445
A series of 24 tales in verse, 2 for each month of the year.
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People are on an earthly journey. They hope that eventually they will be in paradise. There they will discover immortality, perfect beauty, and the truth about life. Many believers see this place as ... Pročitajte cijelu recenziju
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arms bear behold bliss bright brought cast changed close cried dead death deemed door doubt draw dreadful dream drew e'en earth eyes face fair fall fear feet fell folk gain gathered gazed give gods gold golden gone green grew grey grow grown hall hand happy hast head hear heard heart hope Kiartan King knew laid land leave light lips live look maid meet midst morn move nigh night nought o'er once pain passed past rest rose round scarce seemed shalt shame side smile soon sound spake stand stood strange sweet tale tell thee therewith thine things thou thought told trees trembling turned twixt unto voice wall weary wind wise wonder
Stranica 212 - Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. ' And as we gazed this thing upon, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. Those twain knelt down to the Little One. Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor. ' And a marvellous song we straight did hear, The snow in the street and the wind on the door. That slew our sorrow and healed our care.
Stranica 230 - Grey church, long barn, orchard, and red-roofed stead, Wrought in dead days for men a long while dead. Come down, O love ; may not our hands still meet, Since still we live to-day, forgetting June, Forgetting May, deeming October sweet — — O hearken...
Stranica 33 - Now at the noontide nought had happed to slay, Within a vale he called his hounds away Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling About the cliffs and through the beech-trees ring. But when they ended, still awhile he stood, And but the sweet familiar thrush could hear, And all the day-long noises of the wood, And o'er the dry leaves of the vanished year His hounds...
Stranica 128 - O June, O June, that we desired so, Wilt thou not make us happy on this day? Across the river thy soft breezes blow Sweet with the scent of beanfields far away. Above our heads rustle the aspens grey. Calm is the sky with harmless clouds beset. No thought of storm the morning vexes yet. See, we have left our hopes and fears behind To give our very hearts up unto thee; What better place than this then could we find By this sweet stream that knows not of the sea, That guesses not the city's misery,...
Stranica 260 - Look out upon the real world, where the moon, Half-way 'twixt root and crown of these high trees, Turns the dead midnight into dreamy noon, Silent and full of wonders, for the breeze Died at the sunset, and no images, No hopes of day, are left in sky or earth — Is it not fair, and of most wondrous worth ? Yea, I have looked, and seen November there ; The changeless seal of change it seemed to be, Fair death of things that, living once, were fair; Bright sign of loneliness too great for me...
Stranica 146 - Ah ! with what joy then shall I see again The sunlight on the green grass and the trees, And hear the clatter of the summer rain, And see the joyous folk beyond the seas. Ah, me ! to hold my child upon my knees, After the weeping of unkindly tears, And all the wrongs of these four hundred years. "Go now, go quick ! leave this grey heap of stone; And from thy glad heart think upon thy way, How I shall love thee — yea, love thee alone, That bringest me from dark death unto day ; For this shall be...
Stranica 38 - The dawn beheld him sunken in his place Upon the floor; and sleeping there he lay, Not heeding aught the little jets of spray The roughened sea brought nigh, across him cast, For as one dead all thought from him had passed. Yet long before the sun had showed his head, Long ere the varied hangings on the wall Had gained once more their blue and green and red, He rose as one some well-known sign doth call When war upon the city's gates doth fall, And scarce like one fresh risen out of sleep, He 'gan...
Stranica 8 - Ploughed his thin cheeks ; his hair was more than grey, And like to one he seemed whose better day Is over to himself, though foolish fame Shouts louder year by year his empty name. Unarmed he was, nor clad upon that morn Much like a king: an ivory hunting-horn Was slung about him, rich with gems and gold, And a great white ger-falcon did he hold Upon his fist ; before his feet there sat A scrivener making notes of this and that As the King bade him, and behind his chair His captains stood in armour...