Italian Cities

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Lakeside Press, Chicago, 1905 - 213 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 93 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
الصفحة 130 - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...
الصفحة 122 - Out of a corner when you least expect, As one by a dark stair into a great light, Music and talking, who but Lippo! I! — Mazed, motionless and moon-struck — I'm the man!
الصفحة 130 - Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
الصفحة x - To get rid of one's ignorance, to see things as they are, and by seeing them as they are to see them in their beauty, is the simple and attractive ideal which Hellenism holds out before human nature ; and from the simplicity and charm of this ideal, Hellenism, and human life in the hands of Hellenism, is invested with a kind of aerial ease, clearness, and radiancy ; they are full of what we call sweetness and light.
الصفحة 11 - How he drove the bolted breath Through the cloud to wedge it ponderous In the gnarled oak beneath. Oh, our Sophocles, the royal, Who was born to monarch's place ; And who made the whole world loyal Less by kingly power than grace ! ' Our Euripides the human, With his droppings of warm tears, And his touches of things common, Till they rose to touch the spheres.
الصفحة 44 - JERUSALEM the golden ! With milk and honey blest ; Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice opprest. I know not, oh ! I know not What joys await us there ; What radiancy of glory, What bliss beyond compare.
الصفحة 122 - The beauty and the wonder and the power, The shapes of things, their colors, lights and shades, Changes, surprises, — and God made it all! — For what? Do you feel thankful, ay or no, For this fair town's face, yonder river's line, The mountain round it and the sky above, Much more the figures of man, woman, child, These are the frame to?
الصفحة 122 - For, don't you mark? we're made so that we love First when we see them painted, things we have passed Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; And so they are better, painted—better to us, Which is the same thing.
الصفحة 122 - And then i' the front, of course a saint or two— Saint John' because he saves the Florentines, Saint Ambrose, who puts down in black and white The...

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